I found my first silver hair in August 2006. I remember this, because I was driving to Florida for ladysmith's birth and I found a beautiful shiny thread on the upper left of my head. I loved it. I always thought I would look great with salt-and-pepper – or even silver or grey! - hair.
My mom was one of those women who fear and hate aging. She never celebrated her birthdays, and I couldn't understand it. She cried when she turned forty. Actually, she may have cried at thirty, too. It always made me sad, and I said I'd never feel that way about getting older. I enjoy the thought of getting older, torn between the vision of aging gracefully like an infinitely wise crone and being the crazy lady who screams expletives and chases children past her yard with a potato launcher. Either way, I look forward to it.
That said, I didn't expect it to happen so darn quickly. I also remember the first time I actually felt old. It was May 9, 2008. My wedding day. I was dressing and putting on make-up in the hospital bathroom, a private one I had scoped out for just this occasion. It had that wonderful florescent lighting that let me see each and every crevice in my face. There were more crevices since I'd first arrived after mom's accident. By the time I was in the unforgiving bathroom, preparing for my marriage ceremony, we'd already made the decision to pull life support the next day. I took a deep breath and looked at myself, and it wasn't my normal face. Everyone always said I looked like mom with dark hair. When I took a breath and looked at myself that day, I looked like Grandma with dark hair.
Those grief-lines have abated a bit, or maybe I just wear them better. If you'll recall, my sisters and I went out for a salon day afterwards and got cut, colored, the works. They hadn't noticed, but I'd noticed that during that long week, my one silver hair had turned into a head full of grey. I recently cut my hair again, but I wanted to cut the color out, not touch it up. Some of my highlights are still there. My first bright silver hair is back. I stopped at Tina's house Friday after going to the laywer's, just to drop off some of her things I'd gotten from mom's. I only stayed a minute. As she hugged me goodbye, Tina gasped and her chin dropped. She reached out, grabbed it, and whispered, “You have a silver hair!” I totally saw her thoughts ripple across her face. First she was shocked to see it, then she looked at me and realized for the first time that I had aged, and then she realized that meant she had aged. (Her birthday is next week, only twenty-five. Still, I know I read it right.)
I laughed and said, “I had that one a while ago, remember? There are more, but I think they're still colored at the moment.” She just nodded and said quietly, “I remember. Sorry, I was just surprised.”
But today...oh God, today, I believe I went and threw my back out. I bent over and lifted one leg to put through my panties, and boy, that was IT. My lower back on my right side just spasmed uncontrollably and I had to grab the bathroom counter to catch myself. It reminded me of when I was in labor with Ivy. I couldn't stand back up. I managed to finish dressing and stumbled to fall on my bed. We had to go to the store, as we were nearly out of most things but especially toilet paper, so we went to Walmart and tried to stock up on some of the cheaper things. I thought walking a bit would help, and at first it did, but after I sat down to drive home, it was so excruciatingly worse when I got out of the car. Josh tried to get me to buy a freaking cane to help me in Walmart and I refused to do it, and now I'm wishing I had. Maybe I'd be House-sexy.
I am not an infinitely wise old crone yet, and with this pain, I'm certainly not up for chasing anyone with potato launchers. Right now I'm a twenty-seven year old girl who feels like an eighty year old woman. I hurt. And my crevices are coming back.