My life is moving at breakneck speed. I look in the mirror and I see a face I barely recognise. Where did the young, pretty face of my twenty-year-old self go? Now I see a wrinkle here and there, baggy jowls and saggy chin.
However, I am not complaining. This is a better set of circumstances than the alternative, which is obviously death. I breathe, I love, I laugh, I cry, I write, and I talk. I strive, encourage, remonstrate, jump, leap, teach, learn. I make mistakes and I make excellent choices. Every wrinkle on my face tells my life story.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.