A photo was taken of me a few days ago. I examined it today.
The picture tells a story of 1,000 words.
The look of worry in those eyes. Lines forming across my forehead and around my mouth. I’ve aged through this process, through this year.
My mind flickers to photos from years gone by. Never liking my picture to be taken I was never a “photo clown” but there was a twinkle, a spark. Some life.
I look at the photo from now and wonder what the younger, more carefree version would say to her….
Would she listen? Probably not.
The world became too big. Too upsetting and she fell apart. The younger version wouldn’t be able to understand. The older version wouldn’t have the patience to explain it.
They live in different worlds, different times with no chance of merging.