What I could see is my hair turning white,
Or fine lines becoming more pronounced each year.
I could see the way my face and body are changing shape.
I could see that I still don’t really know how to style my hair, even at 51 years old.
If I look closely, I could see the evidence of battle scars from a life lived, including the hurts, betrayals, and failures.
But that’s not what I see. Not today.
What I see are my eyes that still manage to convey compassion and hope.
I see signs that I smile and laugh regularly.
I see life lessons learned well and applied.
I see joy.
I see peace.
I see love.
I see contentment.
I see me.