Only a Matter of Time ...

I knew this day was coming. I actually expected it to come a whole lot sooner than it did. The signs were all there. My reprieve couldn't last forever. What happened?

Today I found my first official gray hair on my head.

Or, well ... the first gray hair I didn't want there.

I actually have had this pretty cool patch of gray hair toward the back of my head for more than twenty years. It is usually covered by the upper layers of my hair, so people generally don't notice it. My hair stylists always find it when they are cutting my hair. I've loved that patch of hair. I don't know why. It's just different, I guess. Like my own secret stash of cool that no one else really knows about ... maybe. We hypothesize that there is a birthmark or mole on my skull, and the hair there just doesn't get pigment ... not a hard thing to believe in my horribly moled body (one of my biggest fears ... dying of skin cancer because I can't notice any difference in my skin with all the moles dotting it).

But despite my love of my hidden gray patch I have always been a bit nervous about actually going gray. In a weird way it has something to do with that patch. I know that as soon as I start coloring my hair that patch will disappear under the dyes, and I'm not quite ready to let it go. I know ... a little neurotic. I actually had a few years where I colored my hair, and I liked it, but I didn't care for the hassle of always having to keep up with the color so that I wasn't constantly showing a fancy half and half look between the true color of my hair as it grew and the dyed look on the lower layers. Plus, I really like my natural hair color, so I always hesitate to change anything. I have always known that as soon as I begin to gray I would color my hair ... at least for the first several years. I have no real issue with gray hair, I think. I might even be able to gracefully accept it someday and wear my gray with pride. Just not right now. I will dye it for now when the gray comes. I just wanted to put that day off for as long as possible.

I figured that I would have begun going gray way before now. Herman has been steadily graying for at least five years. Since we are only two weeks apart I thought I would be right behind him. But no. Maybe it is because my cool gray patch as been doing all the graying work for the rest of my head, giving me a short reprieve from the need to color. I don't know. Either way, I have kept a look out for those newly gray hairs to show up.

And today I finally noticed one.

I stood there in front of my bathroom mirror just staring at it. It fascinated me. I'm not sure what exactly was going through my head. I guess that I know that I am getting older. The signs are all there ... a few more creaks as I move around suddenly, the slower metabolism, my deteriorating eye sight, three children driving, one living out on her own (sort of) on another continent. But I don't really feel old enough to be getting gray hairs. In my head I am still in my twenties. Mentally I feel as young as ever ... without all the stupid mistakes that come with lack of experience and judgment. It was weird to look in the mirror and see this gray hair sitting on the top of my head.

I really thought that it would bother me a lot when I came face to face with gray hairs on my head. I have been really struggling lately with the idea of aging. Birthdays that used to bring me lots of joy have sort of freaked me out the past few years. Turning forty didn't really bother me, but for some reason turning forty-one and forty-two did. I think a lot of that has to do with being up close and personal with the difficulties my mother has been facing these past few years. It kills me to see my once active, intelligent, and vibrant mother struggling with ordinary daily living. Yesterday my dad had traveled to Columbia to be with my brother, Ryan, who is having a HORRIBLE experience trying to recover from a routine surgery that took place almost six weeks ago. Mom cannot handle the traveling very well, so Dad left her at their house here. I came to check up on her later in the afternoon to let her know that Dad would not be home until a bit later than he thought due to another unforeseen medical procedure that Ryan was going through that day. When I told her, my mother, who was once pretty cool in a crisis, went into a bit of a panic, not understanding the situation. She told me that she hadn't eaten all day despite the fact that Dad had left some food in plain sight on the kitchen counter. I went in and grabbed a freezer dinner for her and helped her warm it in the microwave, all the time registering her confusion with what was going on. As I left her house I felt this incredible wave of sadness wash over me. She is not that old, really. She is only twenty-four years older than I am. I am sure when she was my age she never imagined that her life would be this way at this point in her life, but the effects of mental disease and a few debilitating strokes have crippled her mentally. Never in my life have I been so aware of the passage of time and the reality of aging. As I walked out of her house yesterday I just wanted my mom back ... just for a little while.

But anyway ... seeing my parents age made me recognize my own aging with a bit more acuity than I have in the past. This year I finally had to break down and get reading glasses when I noticed that I was having to find better lighting or play around with arm distance when I was reading books. I would stumble through the stores, not able to read smaller fonts on bottles like I used to when comparing products on the shelf. I had to face the fact that my eyes were getting older. I might as well embrace it.

So it surprised me when I looked at my gray hair in the mirror and didn't immediately race to my phone to make a coloring appointment with my hair stylist. I just stared at the thing, strangely proud of this symbol of maturity on my head. I'm not sure how I'll feel when this one hair becomes a hundred or a thousand. I'll probably still take the plunge and wash that gray right out of my hair. But for now I'm going to wear it with pride. Instead of bemoaning my slow advance into the struggles that come with aging and the realities of our own mortality I think I'll stand a little taller, grateful for the wisdom that comes with aging, happy with the chance to reap the rewards of the hard work of our youth as my family grows, moves out on their own to create their own little places in the world, and pushes us into a wonderful new stage of our life. 

Someday I'll embrace my inner Jamie Lee Curtis and choose to age gracefully, living life to the fullest, giving all I've got. But for now ... I've still got a lot of living to do. One gray hair isn't going to change a thing.

Jamie Lee Curtis