A Spark of Life

Deep crevasses that almost reach from my eyes to my ears. Excavated by the countless times that I've giggled from my toes. Dot chewed his favorite felt cowboy hat and he told everyone at school that he had to fight off a bear in the woods. How many times did that good-natured, goofy boy make me laugh?

My eyes seem almost black now. It's hard to see them buried deep within my sagging eyelids and hiding behind progressive lenses. They have watched them grow. So tall. So much taller than me. The pat on my head. "Oh mama, you're so cute," she says to me with a chin resting in my wild hair.

The extra padding stuffed into my freckled skin. Are those freckles or age-spots? I don't recall seeing so many before. Sun-soaked floats down the river. Barefoot walks in the grass before the thunderstorm. My extra-buttery thighs from the extra creamy chicken dish he piles high on rice and Naan bread, a grateful half-smile and quiet, "Thanks Mom" in eyes that look just like mine.

Folds in my face. Worry lines on my forehead. Extra inches that make Gramma's lap easier to settle into. Greying Madam Hooch hair springing from my head decades after crazy pink hair. Hours walking and running and biking keeping me fit and firm. Teaching me how to be strong when the hard days came.

I have been critical of this woman. I have called her names. I have broken her heart. I even gave up on her a time or two.

Each of these things that "They" say I should hide. These things that make me 'less'. Less what? Desirable? To who? I sleep alone and love it. These things that I should fix. Even things that I should feel ashamed of. Why would a woman my age want to get photos done when I look like this? I've read the trolls on the internet. I know what they'll say.

But the winds are changing. This is my time. The time of the crone. This is my second wind. I cast my spells on the voices in my head, banishing them far away. I weave my magic on my own heart, a love potion made to fall in love with myself. To see past the age spots and papery skin. To recognize the spark in those eyes each time I've learned something new about the world and about myself. The spark of life glows to an ember, and soon, very soon, it will be a fire.

Photos taken by Meghan Unger Photography https://meghanungerphotography.mypixieset.com/