Hand of an Aging Woman

It's funny how as we age our mind settles and becomes completely comfortable and confidant with who we are right about the time we start to notice bits and parts, pieces of ourselves changing, aging. All I really can say is that "they weren't lying..." in a woman's 30's she'll bloom. No matter how full blossom you may feel in your twenties until you reach your 30's you're not in "full bloom." Who knows, maybe in each decade we will "peak" again and again, but never before have I felt so beautiful in my own skin... even though it's beginning to have more wrinkles, more signs of the time, and more hints to which decade I was born in. All this stems from a birthday I have coming up this Monday, not very excited about the actual day itself but today during a reflection time I looked back on the past decade and damn am I glad it's over. My twenties were your typical twenties, partying and experiencing as much as I could while trying to find and discover myself. Last year I turned 30 and it was the beginning of letting go of the drama that was following me from my twenties. It was a time to rediscover who I was. Initially thinking that I would hate the upcoming decade, I didn't take into consideration that I really would grow into loving it, and myself... it happens naturally whether or not your ready for it, like most of life's pits and peaks. Anyways, I have a fascination for hands... they tell the story of people's lives if you look close enough and investigate every line, every scar, every single detail of the human hand it can tell you so much about the person they belong to.

As I lay in bed reading a quite interesting book after work my eyes started to drift so I reached up to turn out the light and saw that the light and shadows were like a map exposing so much of myself that I actually examined my own hands as if I had never seen them before. It was an awakening experience.