Growing Old Gracefully

Rate This

My day begins with the loud call coming from the baby monitor in my bedroom. The baby will roll around and talk in his crib for a bit but this is my cue to wake up. I peel back the warm, soft blankets from my bed and slowly pull myself up. I let out a groan as I try to stretch out my tight back muscles and move slowly to the bathroom with stiff knees.

I splash my face with water and rub my tired eyes. As I pat my face dry, I look into the mirror and see a face with dark circles shadowing under the eyes. “Wow, I must need to change the light bulbs in here,” I think to myself.

I reach for an elastic band to sweep my long hair away from my face when I see something that stops me in my tracks. What is that peaking out from under my dark brown hair? As I examined it closer, I gasp! What is that? A gray hair? Old ladies get gray hairs and I’m not old, I’m only….I gasp again! What year is it? I thought I was still 27! When did this happen to me?
I frantically search for a tweezers and race to pull that coarse white hair from my young head but stop abruptly once finding it. What was that rule? Pull a hair and two grow back in its place? Pull it out and it grows back thicker and whiter? Why can’t I remember? I slowly put the tweezers down as I try to decide to pluck or not to pluck.
I take two steps back and look into the mirror again. My waist! Where did it go? Am I in the Twilight Zone? Did I go to bed when I was 27 and someone took away my waist and planted gray hairs on my head? Are these dark circles under my eyes a joke?
The sound of the baby again snaps me back into reality. Oh, yeah. I am married and have three children. I am not having a strange dream, I am just getting older. Gone are the days of functioning on only a few hours of sleep a night and still waking up with bright eyes and fresh skin. Also gone are the days of drinking only Slim Fast for 12 hours and fitting into my skinny jeans. Not exactly things to miss.
The sound of soft talking coming from the monitor reminds me that my baby boy is ready to get up. I walk down the hall and into the room to get my son. As I lift him up out of his crib, he greets me with a bright and happy smile and wraps two chubby arms around my neck as he snuggles into my chest. His tiny fingers twist my hair as he chatters in a language all his own. I smile as I think that this is a great way to start my day, gray hair and all. There are more important things in life than worrying about getting older.

Add a CommentComments

There are no comments yet. Be the first one and get the conversation started!

Susan Schade View Profile Send Message

We value and respect our HERWriters' experiences, but everyone is different. Many of our writers are speaking from personal experience, and what's worked for them may not work for you. Their articles are not a substitute for medical advice, although we hope you can gain knowledge from their insight.