It often occurs to me as I read a lot of my previous posts, that they aren’t necessarily about getting older. Sometimes, they’re just about life, albeit from the perspective of someone who is, in fact, getting older. And maybe that’s the point. There isn’t a single thing on earth, living or otherwise, that isn’t getting older. From the day we’re born, we age. And that’s a good thing. Imagine a world full of smooth-faced newborns who scream a lot, but don’t have much to say. So, let’s revisit getting older just a little before we return to the business of living. Wrinkles, age spots, lumps and bumps that never seem to disappear, creaky joints, gas, the need to color my hair more often to retain my natural red hair, bunions, bad knees, weak ankles, a spare tire around my middle that grows in direct proportion with the the decreasing distance between my boobs and my pelvis, and did I mention gas? Wisdom, growth, passion, 3 nieces that have become amazing young women I can actually talk to, old friends, greater perspective, less fear, more joy, lessons learned, experiences, good and bad, memories, life. There’s a cosmetic movement that’s become sort of the next big thing. One company calls it “Miracle Blur”, others call it a primer. It’s basically spackle for your face. It smooths out all the lines and the wrinkles and makes you ten years younger! Only it doesn’t, not really. I still see the laugh lines around my eyes, the cranky lines between my brows, the life I’ve lived. There’s a fine line between being your best self and erasing the life off of your face. What we are is a patchwork of where we’ve been, what we’ve done, what we’ve gained and lost. If we blur the lines, all we are left with is a smooth-faced newborn who screams a lot, but doesn’t have much to say.