Small Miracles

When I got my first pair of reading glasses, at age forty, I was devastated. I felt so old. A few years later I graduated to bifocals, which for a while I refused to wear.

For a while, I fought every wrinkle and gray hair tooth and nail. And while I’m still not ready to take the plunge and go gray, I don’t stress over it anymore. I remember that my mother never had the privilege of having gray hair.

Every year is a gift.

A couple of years ago I started to notice I couldn’t hear as well. I’ve lived in a very quiet world recently. I finally had a hearing test and discovered my left ear was doing most of the work.

Today I got my first pair of hearing aids and all I feel is blessed.

I could hear my turn signal blinking as I drove home, could hear my dog lapping water out of her bowl, and the symphony of bird song in the sugar maple outside my back door.

I’m not as young as I used to be. But there’s no shame in that.

I’m learning to embrace these helping hands like glasses and hearing aids, and yep, even hair color out of a box.

I’m learning to embrace the wisdom and the quiet acceptance that comes with having made a few extra circuits around the sun.

I’m learning to be grateful for small miracles.