11:10 p.m. | 2006-02-17 Life Is What Happens When You’re Not Looking. Recently, I was brushing my teeth when I noticed it. It’s subtle but there. It wasn’t there when I was five. When I was five, I lived on a farm. I ran around a lot, swung from trees and made mudpies. It would’ve been idyllic except that I was locked outside. Forced to find fun. It wasn’t there when I was ten. When I was memorizing the whole school play even though I only played the lead part. It would’ve been more fun if I hadn’t had to play the part of a boy. For goodness sakes. Being a girl playing a boy? Please. I had to “cootie spray” myself. Cootie spray is only so effective though. It clearly didn’t repel the partners my parents swapped. It wasn’t there when I was fifteen. When I thought I knew everything. Except I didn’t. I learned that marriage is not forever. At least for my parents. It wasn’t there when I was twenty. When I’d been living on my own for several years and realized that college was key for me. As was work. Marriage? Not so much. Ironically, I still have the ring. The one I’ve never worn. It wasn’t there when I was twenty-five. When I’d experienced almost a decade of the daily grind plus college at night. When making mudpies seemed absolutely idyllic. When loneliness was a frequent guest. It wasn’t there when I was thirty. When I decided to prolong the work/school experience by attending law school. When sleep was elusive and humiliation was rampant. It wasn’t there when I was thirty-five. When my schooling ended with my law school graduation. When I realized that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn’t there when I was forty. When I was done with school, finally, and I was happy with my professional career. When I discovered that I never would've signed up for the work I do now. When I learned that happenstance can be wonderful. And enlightening. It is there now though. When I’m forty-one. The first wrinkle. Actually, I’m sure it’s not the first one. Just the first one that I’ve noticed. It’s odd. The first time you look in a mirror and see a wrinkle. I’ve had/have a few grey hairs, of course, but I’ve always plucked them out and went on my way. Can’t really do that with a wrinkle. And, it’s not only one. I have more. Suddenly, I spend more time looking in the mirror. The looking? Not ego driven at all. It’s more exploratory at this point. And, more to the point, I know it’s progressive. At forty-one, it’s the first time I’ve looked in the mirror and faced that fact that I’m going to wrinkle. A lot. I mean, I’m going to keep aging right? That means more wrinkles and grey hairs are waiting in the wings. At forty-one, I finally realize that I’ll be eighty or whatever at some point. I’m on the other side. As some would say. I don’t so much like that part. Or, not at all. On the other hand? Oh. My. Gosh. The wisdom I’ve gained over the years? Nothing could be sweeter. It’s totally underrated in today’s society, of course, but wow. I’ll happily take on some wrinkles and grey hairs in exchange for the wisdom and confidence that I’ve, frankly, earned over the last forty-one years. If you’re young, poo-poo it all you want. I have no issue with that because you, my friend, are going to age just as much as I have. Not right this second, much to my chagrin, but you will. Yes indeed you will. Good luck with that. I see my wrinkles, grey hair, age spots, wisdom, experience and insight as very positive developments. And, I really don’t care if anyone else blows it off. Really I don’t. I’m comfortable in my own skin. Are you? your thoughts? seed flower