Lately, my husband has been digitizing old slides, so I have spent hours looking at old pictures. Ancient pictures of myself that I have not seen in over forty years. This forces one to face reality. Inside I feel much like that nineteen-year-old girl, but where did she go? When I look in the mirror now, I see a middle-aged woman.

I’m desperate to be that young again.

But, I’m deeply grateful I’m no longer as na├»ve as she was.

That girl/woman looks put together with neatly flipped hair, eyeliner, and A-line mini-dress. I thought I was fat, but she looks slim and proportioned. She looks poised and confident, but I remember only insecurity, awkwardness and shyness. I wanted to look like the women I saw in magazines and movies. Why couldn’t I see that I did? They say pictures don’t lie, but I have to wonder.

Sure I want to be nineteen again, but only with the wisdom gained from living and learning for sixty years. Besides, when I’m eighty or ninety, I expect to look at the photos of me at sixty and yearn to be that young again. Everything is relative.

1 comment:

  1. You have captured EXACTLY what I think as well! I have no desire though to be 19 again. Maybe 40 again, when I could still run and not have aching knees!
    Norm needs to teach me how to do the slides though. It would be a fun journey to wander through them. See the former me, the former Tom and the former children!