We’ve been on a cruise the last few days and spent one of our days in Cozumel. We snorkeled in the ocean, walked through gardens, tasted different kinds of tequila, watched a sea lion show, and admired dolphins. All the fun things you do in Cozumel. And, except for the snorkeling, I took photos of all of it.
I took some good photos of Mike. We took some cute photos together. And I asked Mike to take some photos of me.
Despite the fact that I had on no makeup. Despite the fact that my hair was a tangled mess. Despite the fact that I wasn’t wearing the most figure flattering clothes.
I had him take photos of me, and took and had taken, photos of us together, because I’m trying really hard to be honest and real about what life looks like.
This is 50.
Those lines you see at the corners of my eyes are one of my favorite parts of my unmade up self. Because they represent many smiles and much laughter.
The sparkle in my hair doesn’t come from expensive salon treatments but from the silver strands I’ve gained during many days and nights spent taking care of or worrying about sick children.
The body that isn’t as firm as it was at age 20 is much stronger than it was then. It has carried and nurtured two amazing children. It has held the hands of friends and patted the backs of hurting children and their parents.
The mouth you see with the fine lines at the corners has spoken up and spoken out for hundreds if not thousands of people over the past 24 years who needed a champion in their corner.
The eyes that you see hide sadness over the loss of all 4 grandparents, and a father, and countless uncles and aunts and cousins and friends.
The hands that you see aren’t as young and smooth as they once were. But they have worked with fabric and thread to craft and distribute pillowcases and blankets that have comforted thousands of children who were hurting.
This is 50. And it’s real. And it’s imperfect. But it’s meaningful. And it’s beautiful. And I wouldn’t trade it for 20 if I could.
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