The old me was thin and beautiful and yet, she didn’t even know it.

The new me looks a bit more wrinkled and tired with each year and yet, she’s decided that the scars of age suit her.

The old me used to clean a childless house on Saturdays.

The new me vacuums on a whim or when she can corral four children out of doors for a few minutes.

The old me listened to music and went to see cool new bands.

The new me plays iTunes while she washes dishes and sings Cat Stevens as her children loudly protest.

The old me used to take showers and wear fresh clothes every day.

The new me chooses to embrace the quiet of the early mornings and the stillness of the late evenings, rather than hair washing and being squeaky clean.

The old me dressed children perfectly for church, always an outward picture of perfection down to the knee socks and buckled red shoes.

The new me woke up today twenty minutes before time to go and put on her jeans from yesterday and lugged Amos to Sunday school in his feety pajamas.

The old me adored sleeping in as late as possible.

The new me relishes waking up while the rest of the family slumbers so she can breathe in the birth of dawn and sip hot instant coffee.

The old me was outspoken, a bit brash and too confident, truly.

The new me is a watered down version of that girl, a bit kinder, softer and hopefully, learning to listen after 41 years.

The old me was a grief stricken sister, decimated by the cancerous loss of her older brother, even twenty five years later.

The new me is filled with fondness and memories of the boy whose name, Adam, she could once hardly speak aloud, now rolls joyfully off her tongue quite often.

The old me had a plan and checked the boxes carefully: graduate school, husband, job, children, house.

The new me realizes that plans don’t abide by one’s wishes and dreams and that unexpectedness can be a good thing.

The old me longed to be mother of a parcel of lovely and perfect children.

The new me knows that perfection is in the eye of the beholder and her greatest treasures are the children of whom one is sensitive, one a bit quirky, one quite precocious, and one with extra special needs.

The old me thought life was a predictable path to be traveled with perseverance.

The new me knows that life is the traveling of the unexpected road and the obstacles and hardship weave the kindest souls with threads of joy and sorrow.