My tinsel filled adventure

I call it my hair tinsel but what it really is, is gray hair. White actually. Slowly sprouting here and there.

I thought this part of life would scare me. That this sign of "aging" would make me panic. But it doesn't.

It makes me grateful.

Grateful of the life I've lived and the life I have yet to live.

Grateful for the youth and hyper world that is slipping away slowly to be replaced by maturity and peace (one can only hope!).

Some ask if I will erase these signs with some youthful bottle of "color" and I reply honestly that I don't know.

That's part of what that tinsel has shown me. That I don't know. I never have. Even during times when I thought I had, I hadn't. And I still don't. Is that a sign of maturity? To know you don't know... And that you really don't want to know. Because if I knew then I wouldn't.

I wouldn't anything because knowing about the adventure is not at all as much fun as living it.

So for now the tinsel stays. It's mine. It's part of my unknown, crazy, heartbreaking, ridiculously blessed adventure.