When did I become so old? The question lingers in the air, a whisper of time’s relentless march. The woman staring back at me from the mirror is a stranger, her eyes a reflection of years gone by, yet her spirit remains untouched by the passage of time.

Clearly, the woman I see in the mirror is not the woman held prisoner inside this broken body. She is vibrant, her heart beating with the rhythm of dreams yet to be fulfilled. Her laughter echoes with the innocence of youth, a melody that defies the lines etched upon her face.

Her smile is much too young, a beacon of hope and resilience. It is a reminder that age is but a number, a mere construct that cannot cage the soul. The essence of who she is, the dreams she holds dear, and the love she has to give, remain as fresh and pure as the morning dew.

In the quiet moments, when the world fades away, she emerges, unbound and free. She dances to the tune of her own making, a symphony of life that transcends the physical. For within her lies a timeless beauty, a spirit that will never grow old.

© Beatriz Esmer