(Wo)man in the mirror, in 5

When I look in the mirror, I see…

There are grey hairs, clinging to a head they shouldn't belong to. They are few and far between, but they are thin streaks of lightning that point to an aging storm ahead. There are curls I used to hate, but now relish and swing and twist with my fingers. When I see me, I see curls, and am now grateful that the two go together. There are big brown eyes that stare at me with questions, and a few regrets, with tired lids and a hint of makeup from the night before. They are not the eyes of either of my parents, but rather the eyes of my sister and my two eldest children. I think I like that fact that I'm not exactly the same as those who came before, but a mother/sister twin to three amazing creatures who mirror me in their own ways. There is a mole here, a wrinkle there, ears with several wholes signifying an only-slightly rebellious youth. A crooked smile, a crooked tooth, evidence of a lack of braces but an over-abundance of character. Behind the mirror, behind my face, behind the person looking at it - questioning herself and studying her frame - is a family. A man chasing after a baby, children jumping on a bed, and clothes and toys and papers and mess. It clutters the smudged mirror.

I think in the mirror I see something close to contentment. I'm not sure, though. I don't think I recognize her yet. 


What do you see?


{5 minute Friday... or Tuesdays, in my case}