In My Skin

What is it that I see when I look in the mirror?

This shell holds all of our being together and is shaped and molded by the weathering of time and stress.

I think back to how many years and events have transpired, all the while stuck in this decaying house, even as my brain is pricked and pruned from the challenges, joys, and sorrows of my life.

If our lives were fairy tales, would they be enough to keep the attention of the average child at bedtime?

This skin that has been stretched and reformed through the years is now spotted, worn, and wrinkled.

We do not slay dragons, but we fight the ignorance that we have blindly perpetuated, the apathy that drags us down like an anchor, and the emptiness and fear that invades our lives in times of quiet solitude.

Will time and antiquity ever know that we existed and made some small dent in the fabric of time?

This skeleton of joints and bone and sinewy muscle is sore from many years of indulgence and laziness, but it remembers more than we know.

It has taken years to be comfortable in my skin. The fact that I am a flawless and unique sculpture, and there will never be another reproduction like me, makes me pause. It gives me peace that I am wonderful stitched from the fabric of a larger garment.

What is it that everyone else sees when they look in their own mirror?

This face that has witnessed the whole journey in awe, eyes that have seen beauty and sadness, ears that have heard my babies cry, beautiful melodies, and the sounds of destruction, confusion, and chaos.

If it is really true that the eyes are the windows to the soul, then may these eyes be blessed to see a thousand more sunrises. May my face feel the wind as it whips across the ocean and my ears hear the sounds of happiness and joy that ring true in my children, their children, and eons onward.  

How do I reconcile the anger I feel toward the aching back, fat stomach, and lumbering form that I carry with me every day?

This body that I always seek to be smaller and more nimble is the one that has served me all these years and continues to make me who I am, for better or worse.

The revelation that you own the body you inhabit, and there will never be a replacement or upgrade, is the reality that we must reconcile with if we are to use that body for good, for enjoyment, and to play our role in the ever-present reality of our existence.

Even as I seek to bend this body to my will, may I know that this skin and bones will always be my companion, my home, and my traveling suit, until it is preserved, pressed, and laid to rest.