The other day I came back from a haircut, my kids took a long and mischievous look at me wondering why their mother has become a boy. No struggle, no hesitation, I got rid of my long hair. A big change that would have taken me months to come to term with when I was ten years younger.
Maybe because I am ten years older now. Yes, I am older. Damn it! But I think I am also wiser and different. Yes, different. I feel so much more settled into my skin and confident in the way I move my body through my life. While the 20-something me still powers the heart of 38-year-old me, I’ve still got wrinkles, gray hair, and it takes a lot longer to recover from a late night out. But who cares about any of that when I now possess an increased ability to identify and shrug off the things that don’t matter.
A lot of that is age, but most of it is the responsibility of having children. My kids are why I am different.