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Lamentation

It strikes me every day.
Every day in a different way.

I’m old; older.

I’m at the place where I no longer know the person looking back at me in the mirror.
She’s a stranger.

Yet when I’m with my grandmother and father, I still have the familiar place. The granddaughter, daughter place. The young girl place. I think of my age and I feel immature. I haven’t grown up yet. I feel embarrassed. I’m a fraud.

I remember the person in the mirror. Who is she?
Brown spots, wrinkles, moles, a hair on the chin.
She is one of the blank faces. One of the people never noticed by the young.

When did this happen? When did my body abandon me?
I still feel like the young girl with the big eyes & long curly hair.

It seems there is nothing I can do to see her again. The one I know. The one that I am. The one that I feel inside.
No outfit, no hair-do, no make-up, no microderm or chemical peel, no surgery has brought her back.

She’s gone.

I miss her.

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