"Barn's Burnt Down; Now I Can See The Moon."

I normally think these kinds of tangents are trite and heavy-handed, so indulge me for a moment, please.

I looked into the mirror just now before bed, and I immediately zoomed in on all my perceived aesthetic flaws. My frizzy curls. The ugly bags under my eyes. The redness in my cheeks. How pale my skin looked. A grey hair on my hairline. It wasn’t a conscious criticism; instead, I became alarmed at how naturally these harsh critiques flowed through my subliminal mind. How flippantly I accepted them as truths.

Something made me trip over these thoughts tonight, though, and forced me to take a step back. For once, something stronger than my normal consciousness demanded that I reevaluate.

My hair was frizzy because I wore it down all day as I rollicked with children. I didn’t have time to concern myself over it then because I knew my boys would think I was pretty for reasons that were deeper than physicality.

The bags under my eyes were because I needed sleep. Why? Because I broke my normal routine and went out late with friends last night. I’m lucky enough to have friends who want to be with me. I might have been a little sleepier than normal today, but the memories I made with them will outlast a bit of tiredness.

The pink of my cheeks, (which deepens into an exaggeratedly rosy hue whenever I blush, something that I often consider the bane of my existence,) was instead flushed from a day spotted with laughter. Although that’s not always the case–it’s not uncommon for my face to become crimson after a good cry or an angry outburst–it still proves one thing: That I am capable of genuine emotion.

There’s no denying that I’m currently very pallid, but there’s more to it than that. I’m lucky enough to be employed, and I love my job. I get to work in a temperature-controlled building, and I’m not forced to labor in the elements on a daily basis like some. And although the weather might not be ideal right now, I get to look forward to a warm vacation in my near future– an opportunity not everyone gets.

I started getting grey hairs from a very young age, just like my mother and her father. I am part of a family, and with that comes shared traits and characteristics and quirks. Furthermore, the grey hairs that I’m so quick to pluck out prove that I’m privileged enough to be growing older. I am healthy and thriving– that’s not something that everyone is lucky enough to be able to say

I may never be perfectly satisfied with what I see staring back at me in the mirror. Don’t believe anyone who tells you that they are. But in the end, it all boils down to simple pieces. Like shards of colored glass making up an expansive collage, my individual features–whether I consider them foibles or assets– come together to make one big picture.

And that picture is me.

Wholly, truly me…something I wouldn’t change for all the tanned skin and smooth hair in the world.

XO