Taking pictures of myself late on a Friday night after working a full day and when I am tired is a challenge. The first challenge is to once again familiarize myself with my appearance. Vanity knows me well. I expect to see in a picture the me that was so long ago before I married more than once, had children and stepchildren, lived a life. I look for that naive youth that used to hang around me, that used to be me. Where has she gone? she has done many things, seen many things, experienced the very ripeness of life and that experience shows in the soft wrinkles of her face, the gentle folds of skin, the graying of her hair, the weight of her body and the ache of her well used joints, not the least of which are her fingers. Fingers that crafted and created and forged and drew and hammered and painted the very things that made her living. Should I be ashamed that I am aging? Should I fear going into the later years of my life? I am proud of me, even when those most close to me question what and who I am. I am pleased that although it sometimes hurts to take these pictures; I am beginning to SEE me, and all that I am and will be. What an adventure!
