A Reflection of Me

My hair is a mess.

I see myself in the bathroom mirror as I hurry past, just catching a glimpse at the edge of awareness. For a split second I am startled. And then I laugh. I laugh out loud because I am forever forgetting what I look like. Somehow I expect to see the 20-year-old me. But that girl is long gone. She is out, remembering what it was like before time, gravity and shifting worlds elbowed their way in and settled down to stay.

It's not that I don't remember. It's just a matter of reflections. The ones in my mind don't match the ones in my mirror.

I know that I am still there. The 22 year old who thought she could change the world. The 32 year old who was finally beginning to feel alive in her own skin. The 42 year old who found herself beginning again. We all live in this covering of skin and bone, but occasionally we surprise each other.

Every day brings changes, good and bad. Erosions. Attritions. Sharpenings. Fine tunings. Explosions of perfection.

Time keeps moving and I recognize myself only in the blur.