What do I see?

What do I see when I look in the mirror?

A face only a mother could love.

I see hazel eyes that reflect the colors in my clothes, eyebrows that are unruly and straight, with a couple of hairs that obstinately stick straight out and are white or gray in color. My eyes are not as strong as they once were. My vision is gradually deteriorating, a consequence of my gluttony: lots of fatty foods and delicious but deadly sweet treats. I do have kind eyes, though. At least I always have strived to look kindly on others.

A mouth that once was delicate, with soft pouty lips, now is either a thin straight line or compressed into a downturned angry expression.  It’s not the face of my dear mother, more the face of my dad, who kept his smiles to a minimum, and only briefly allowed them to peek through his serious persona. Life has not always been kind to me. I do need to work on that expression though.

My ears are rather small, something I’ve always appreciated. I inherited them from my mom. My dad’s ears were considerably larger. My hearing is diminished now too.  Most sounds are garbled and my tinnitus is so loud I can’t understand what I do hear.  I know it is frustrating for hubby to have to turn up the volume on the tv for me. Most of the time, I simply tune everything out and use my earbuds for my phone or computer, where I can have the volume that I need. It’s frustrating, to say the least, but it’s my life.

My skin has aged rather suddenly. I used to use skin products on a regular basis, but now that I’m retired and basically a hermit at home, I don’t bother with the skin creams and ointments that kept my skin supple and soft and wrinkle free.  Age spots appear all the time, with a new crop showing up at least weekly.  Maybe someday they will all join together and I’ll finally have the “tan” I’ve always wanted but always eluded me. Wrinkles are like thieves, stealing my looks and my youth. They surround my eyes and my mouth so far but are creeping upward to my cheeks like a thief in the night.  Too tired to worry about such vanity anymore, I just watch and curse them. I do have some moles that I watch closely, especially since having a cancerous squamous cell lesion removed under my left eye a year ago. The scar is healing well, and I have to look closely to see it now. My glasses also help to hide it.

My hair is straight and a mousy light brown with gray streaks around my face. I think it makes me look tired and old, but my hairdresser thinks my hair color is attractive and “suits” me. Whatever. I stopped coloring my hair back in 2020, after my mom died. I just didn’t have the desire to do it anymore. It does save money to go au naturelle.

So, what do I see when I look in my mirror? I see a woman who is 74 years old, a woman who has led a life of work, sorrow, pain and frustration, but also a woman who has had many joys in her life. My husband is a retired truck driver, who has dedicated his life to “taking care of me” and sometimes that is wonderful, and sometimes it adds to the frustration.

My family, children, grandchildren, and now great grandchildren, are the joys in our lives. Their photos line our walls from top to bottom. My little dog, Maizie, makes me laugh but also annoys me when she snoops around the house and finds things to chew.

My faith in God is my rock. The Lord has been good to me, and my Guardian Angel has been busy trying to keep me out of trouble. When our youngest daughter was killed in a house fire at the age of 21 in 1999, God gave me the strength to carry on. Without Him, I would have dissolved into a mess of quivering sobs. I’ve cried many tears for my Teresa, but we’ve learned to cope and move on with our lives. Having her daughter, Regan and granddaughter, Maliyah help us to see joy in our lives again.

So, I look in my mirror, and see a daughter of God, a wife, sister, mother, grandmother and great grandma who finds joy in her family, enjoys her art and writing and animals in her life.

I see a life well lived.