As my friends and readers know, I had a book event in Sedona last weekend. It went very well, with a very attentive and interested audience. Lots of good questions and I felt as if I inspired them to write their life stories.
I offered my contact information and have received a couple emails from one attendee, who bought and has since already read my book. She offered praise on the writing and the story, for which I am grateful. In her most recent email, she said”
“Looking at your face Saturday, I could see you are still suffering. It makes you look older than your young years.”
Does she realize that I am 62, not all that young? How old do I look? 70? 80? Is the pain of relinquishing my child and our rocky reunion really aging me? Or is it just in those moments when I remember that I suddenly look sad, and hence weary with age?
I don’t resent her comment. But I wonder…
I only post photos here that I think are somewhat flattering, even though I don’t consider myself photogenic. Maybe I don’t see the creases of sadness in my own face. On the other hand, I believe that there’s nothing like loss to age one’s soul.