It is December 31st. The last day of the year. The older I get the quicker the days fly by, like sand sifting through your fingers. Where did the year go? Where did the last thirty years go. I smiled at my daughter standing in the doorway. I looked away, I thought for just a minute. and now she is fifty. This cannot be my mind cries out. I shouldn't even be fifty. My mind says I am thirty, jumping, leaping along with life. Then I glance into a mirror and am shocked at the complete stranger that stares back at me with the lines on her face and the glazed eyes. This stranger mocks me with those eyes. You are old they are saying. I quickly walk away, not looking back. But I feel her presence walking with me. I have just seen a fleeting glance of the me the world sees. I have to laugh out loud sometimes at the at the irony of it all. Because locked inside is me. I want to yell, I am in here. Please old body, let me out. But I know the truth, this is who I have become. The wrinkled, older lady.
But inside my soul sings. Inside is the stories I have never written, the poetry that still lives in my heart. The girl who wanted to climb a mountain, but never left the ground. I will gather all these things up as I march fearlessly into a New Year. And I will dream of what I will do this year. Because as long as we dream we are still alive.
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