Musing on a Question When You Don't Want to Hear The Answer

   In two weeks, our skater turns 25. That doesn't "sound" old until you start to put it into perspective: A quarter century; a fourth of 100.
   How did that happen? I didn't get older, did I? I still feel like I did when I was 25. I could still ski double blacks if I wanted to. I could still do cartwheels in the grass - if I wanted to. I look like those photos of me at 25, as long as I don't look in the mirror. It is the portrait of Dorian going gray in that face that stares back at me in the morning as I brush my teeth and apply my makeup. 
   Yes, I have older children and we're about to have a grandchild in September. That is so completely exciting to me. I can be 25 again as I look into her little face and say, "Hello, Sophie Alexandra. Welcome to the world." 
   In two weeks, though, my "baby" turns 25. As I stare into the mirror, the only thing I ponder is my gray hair and the fact that everyone, including my hairdresser, now knows for sure.  

  The pictures in our family photo albums don't get older; only the memories do. Oh, and I do, too. That's okay. Right now, I wouldn't trade places with Dorian Gray. I love my life. I don't need to do cartwheels in the grass, I just need a new box of L'Oreal Preference, some Olay Regenerist, a new personal training program from my daughter and some sleep. 

Oh, and a much smaller mirror!