It was last week sometime. I think. Or maybe a few days ago. I am not sure when it happened.

I was sitting in my office typing, while my daughter was playing near me. I kept typing, while she busied herself around my legs, trying to tickle my feet. Without warning, I hear a scream from her after she eyes my purple-pink spider veins and says “Momma, your cracking.”

I laughed when she said it and tried to explain to her that it was just a skin rash, knowing that was a weak and untrue explanation. Midway through my response, I realized I was attempting to explain a spider vein to a four year old. What I wanted to tell her was how there are times when I feel like I am cracking. Oh, if you only knew, I thought to myself.

When I run these days, especially after a long run, my knees start to hurt. I haven’t just pulled one gray hair, but pulled several. I’ve noticed brown sun spots on my face, along with a couple of wrinkle lines. My hair is not lush, but a little lived in. I have to exercise more to keep from gaining weight and I can’t indulge in ice cream as often as I would like. The memory isn’t as sharp and I find that I have to write things down a little more often. And yes, I have developed a few spider veins.

I am cracking, but in a strange way I am comfortable with it. With aging, comes an irreplaceable accessory, the most important crack – experience. I find that I am less emotional about things, choosing to try to solve the issue that is bothering me, instead of crying about it. I try to take things less personally, learning that most of the time, what is being said isn’t so much about me, but about another’s insecurities. The sting is still there, but it lasts for a passing second and then is gone. Although there are times I am anxious, there are longer stretches when I am particularly at ease with what is happening around me. I understand myself more and find little need to justify my actions.

With every vein, wrinkle, and fine line surfacing, I understand that time is passing, but it is happening to all of us.

The cracks, well, most days I don’t think they are so bad. I’ve learned to laugh at them, while my daughter points out new ones to me everyday.


What do you think about the aging process? Does aging bother you? Do you feel more comfortable with yourself as you get older?