The Gifts of Aging

Today, I turned thirty-two.

I have always admired women who unabashedly reveal their age with unwincing confidence. I reveal but still wince: Rogue greys, blue veins, and joint pain- Once feared strangers, now mocking acaquaintances.Time always leaves a mark of its forward tread; though, I am convinced, much of its visibility is dependent upon us.

And perhaps, our plastic surgeon

Sagacious, this may sound but a student of life, I obligingly remain. Yet, with each passing birthday, I am -simply put-been getting more. Not tangible gifts, but those illusive, immeasurable valuables that merit the humbling conclusion, "my cup runneth over."

So, here are some recent photos of the overflow, for which I am profoundly grateful.