Age Spots

Hello!

For some time now, my mom and I have been on a mission to fade our age spots. At 49 years old I notice every line and sag that seems to appear over night. Most of the time, I am not bothered by the “effects of gravity” but with age spots I feel differently.

I have three; pencil-eraser size spots that dot across the upper portion of my cheekbones. I dub them the “equator” because when I peer into the mirror I envision an imaginary line connecting them thus dividing my face into the “northern hemisphere” of eyes and forehead and the “southern hemisphere” of nose, mouth and chin. To a regular person on the street, I am sure the equator is not noticeable; and to date, no one has stopped me and declared, “Wow, look at your equator!” But none-the-less I fret over their presence.

Over the past few years, both my mom and I have gone from cover stick to cosmetic lotions in our attempts to lessen the age spot’s visibility. We have tried natural remedies, Dr. Murad’s age spot fader, Clinique’s brand and the latest and greatest recipes exulted in supermarket news magazines. Dr. Murad’s, to be fair, produced the best results for me but the price of a one ounce bottle of “wonder lotion” was more than I could afford in my currently jobless state.

Just last Friday my mom exclaimed her latest discovery of whole milk and hydrogen peroxide. Apparently you mix it up and dab it on the spots daily. She has not tried it yet and I cautiously wait to hear of her results. If the next time I see her, and she smells a little “sour” I’ll know, she may be onto something.

Anyhow, I go on about this topic because of my two daughters. Well, not really about their smooth, even-toned, age spot-free skin but about the passage of time between them and me. Both girls are in their early twenties, finishing up their education and laying down foundations in their career and social lives. As I remember from my days with my mother, she just did not get it and I expect I don’t either.

For example: texting, Facebook and twitter. This constant compulsion to ‘converse’ at all hours of the day and night through meals and shopping and even classes (they better not) is insane. Why not pick up the telephone or dial the cell and TALK; say your thoughts with your mouth and listen with your ears and respond. All this thumbing and beeping is frantic, distracting and nerve wracking.

In my day, thumbing meant standing on the side of the road and hitching a ride to some other destination. Perhaps, not wise, but definitely less virtual. Alas, my age spot rears it’s awful grey-brown color.

Another mind-boggling behavior: sex. Now, I’m not prudish. I “get it” when it comes to attraction and the whole boy-girl game thing, but “friends with benefits” and casual oral sex? I’m confused.
In my day there were some girls that “did” and more girls that “did not” at least not with just anyone; perhaps their steady boyfriend. But now days, it feels like sex is expected as part of the whole boy/girl dance: boy eyes girl at school, girl texts boy, they meet up at football game and then hook up after. I don’t get it. What happened to mystery and anticipation? My sex age spot? I’ll keep it.

Lastly, there is the whole bitch/bullying thing. What is this all about? Female behavior between other females as always been tense due to jealousy, insecurities and boys, but this escalation of fighting and pulling hair and ambushing in the school hallways is way too intense.

And there is the whole realm of cyber bullying. Both sexes are behaving badly in this regard. Nothing is private and there are no cool down periods between encounters. Because of this and the split second transmitting of un-thought-out thoughts, young adults are at risk to the point of their lives. What ever happened to civil discourse or taking a break? Or that time old quotation, “I’ll see you at the football field…after school…tomorrow.”

Thankfully both of my girls don’t participate in perpetuating this problem and have been fortunate to not be a recipient of this bad behavior, but still where are we going as a society with these deeds?

So, again, I’d rather keep and even be proud of my age spot of person to person telephone calls and meetings to discuss and work out differences.

In some ways the “more things change the more things stay the same.” I mean for all the new tech and digital hocus-pocus, we still face the foundational issues in relationships that require communication and time to resolve issues. TIME TO RESOLVE. That is the key; we need to take a moment to inhale and think, to decide what is important to say and what is not, and what kind of action we want to take and when. All of this takes time.

And with the passage of time comes age spots…perhaps age spots are not such a bad thing after all!!

Well, I have got to go…I have to telephone my mother (and hear her voice), then ask her how her milk and peroxide treatment is coming along?

Have hope,
Donna

Yellow Butterfly

Hello

It is autumn in Upstate New York: beautiful leaves, crisp air and my son's Fall soccer season. With the beginning of school and homework along with so many soccer games, the frantic pace of life can make one oblivious to the loveliness of mother nature all around us.

Each Saturday morning, I hunker down in my red folding chair on the sideline of my son's soccer field. I bring my blanket because of the wind that whips down the field to send a morning chill down my spine. I usually set up my chair next to my friend Amy and her daughter Carys.

Sitting still has often been a difficult task for me. I like to 'move' and I like to 'do'. It takes an extreme amount of effort for me sit still and watch my son run up and down the field. I chat with Amy and I listen to the chatter going on all around me. There are many moms and dads running after their little children while trying to carry on a conversation. I over hear snippets of chat about school and homework, or about activities these families have planned after the soccer game. Between the noise of the game, the running around of siblings and the chatter of conversations, Saturday mornings on the sidelines is busy and chaotic.

That is unless you are Carys. Carys is my first grade friend who always has a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face. She sits next to her mom and politely answers any question I have for her on that particular morning. And some days, Carys just sits quietly.

One morning, while busy-ness was happening all around Carys and me, she poked me in the arm. Her poke snapped me out of my temporary "zoning out" due to watching the back and forth action on the soccer field. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Look, a yellow butterfly!"

My eyes followed her little finger pointing towards the green grass near the sideline of the field in front of us. Her pointing followed the butterfly's dainty dance along the tops of the blades of grass and eventually up into the air and away.

She looked at me with her big toothy smile and said, "Wasn't that beautiful?"

I looked at her, smiled and agreed, "Yes, it was soooo beautiful."

We sat there together enjoying the moment. Soon the butterfly returned. This time we both watched its dance. I leaned over to her, "Do you see the little white butterfly near by?" She squinted her eyes and searched. When she found it she looked at me and sighed, "Oh yes, it's so tiny."

And that is how it went for a few minutes; the two of us, sitting and watching.

Eventually both butterflies few away and our attention returned to the soccer game. The noise of the playing field again filled our ears. We settled into our happy chatter and before long the moment passed.

Upon reflection I wondered how many moments like this I have missed because of the activity surrounding me. So many good activities, like watching one's son's soccer game, grab the attention of loving, caring, well-meaning people to the exclusion of nature's grand show. The butterfly or perhaps a bee buzzing from dandelion to dandelion, gently nudging our consciousness from the "to do" towards the "to be." The "must do" towards the "must be."

The game went on, and eventually came to an end. I'm not sure whether we won or lost. But I am sure of the excitement that was palpable as each mom and dad hugged and congratulated their little soccer player for a job well done. Cleaning up, and folding up, and prodding little children towards the parking lot took precedence as the next team prepared to take the field.

I too, engrossed in activity, said my good-byes to other parents and friends. Then, I squatted down to look Carys in the eye..."Thank you sweetie, for sharing your yellow butterfly with me. It was the best part of the whole morning." She smiled and nodded, then took her mom's hand and headed off towards the parking lot with her family.

I watched grateful for the moment; standing on the sideline of a lovely green field, surrounded by colorful trees and enveloped in a brisk, crisp autumn wind. Not moving, not doing...just being.

Yellow butterflies are lovely.

Have hope.
Donna