Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stagger down the hall to greet my two fuzzy children. Yelping and dancing in the floor, they know they are getting ready to have their hair cut and their bi-monthly bath. I told my husband, "You know, it's a shame that Prissy and Ginger get a haircut more often than I do." Looking into the mirror, I still see the girl behind the aging woman. My hair is revealing some gray strands while sticking up in various angles like a punk rocker. Even my hair is a contradiction to my life. I was always the tomboy growing up and I still can climb a tree, just a little slower. I remember riding my bike, thinking, if I just pedal fast enough, I could take flight. Now, I drive a Ford escape and take caution for others might knock me off the road. My World aorund me, as I know it, is like a clock wound to tight. It is ready to snap. When I see myself as a clock that has decided to slow down just a little and appreciate the beauty around me. I may physcially grow older, but my heart is still that of a child.
So, another day of silvering hair will only be a temporary fix.
I will drag out 'Lady Clariol' and hide my secret of aging because like my little friend-- Peter Pan, he would say, "I am never going to grow up."