Later this week I will be 40. I don't feel like I am about to turn 40. I keep thinking of that Frank Sinatra song, Young at Heart. Maybe the fact that I think about Sinatra tunes should tell me that I am old! I do feel young at heart in many ways. St. Therese the little flower is someone I strive to emulate in my day to day happenings. She approached life with a child-like wisdom. Life seemed more easily defined in black and white, right and wrong, when I was little. Somewhere along the way, the world tried to blur those lines. I prefer the crispness of black and white.
In other ways though, my heart feels ancient. The day Ben died, the childish notion that nothing bad can happen was shattered. Like a broken mirror, the pieces are all there, but the image it reflects is different.
Speaking of mirrors, when I see my reflection, I see the "laugh lines" and "crow's feet". I see the gray wiry hairs (why are the gray ones wavy and the dark ones straight?) beginning to make their appearance. But I think one's eyes tell the real story. You can appear old everywhere else, but the sparkle of a youthful spirit can't hide, and it shows itself through the eyes. I saw it this Christmas in my grandmother's eyes. As she sat in a chair, and I sat on the floor beside her listening to her tell a story, the twinkle in her eye erased all the wrinkles of her 99 years and the child within was before me.
My birthday wish? That there always be a sparkle in my heart.