True Beauty Never Fades

Photo by pmv chamara on Unsplash

Crows feet run from my eyes like rivulets down dusty hills. Gray strands of hair shoot across my head like lightning in a night sky. I’m aging. And I’ve accepted the way aging looks on me.

Acceptance is a powerful thing. I could stand before a Nordstrom mirror and declare the lighting is harsh, or I could accept the dimples dotting my thighs. I could scroll through photos of myself and conclude the angles were bad, or I could accept that…