At first there was only one and
I could only see it if the light caught its reflection at just the right angle.
The appearance of the first was followed by a second, and a third. I’m not sure why we call them
grey—they're actually anything but grey. In my eyes, they're silver and shiny,
and more luminous than all the other strands of hair.
I had a dream about these silver
strands many moons ago before the first one had appeared. I was living in the
jungle and dreamt to the sound of ocean waves one night that I had a crown of
silver hair and wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before.
There are only a few now but
I see more by the day. At first this came as a surprise, even a bit of a shock, as though
I thought that I alone would be spared the aging process. After surprise, came
feelings of slight worry and thoughts about my mortality.
I wondered briefly if I should
start dying my hair. I even told my hair dresser last time I was in her chair
that I didn’t want to look ‘half old.’ I realized that dying my hair would mean
loosing all of the brown all at once. The creator, the most masterful of master
artists, gifted this unique brown to me. My brown gets darker in the winter and
lighter and redder in the summer. No—there’s no way I would dye my hair for
that reason and others that are too numerous to list here.
I wondered if I would be
found less attractive or be less desirable if I go visibly grey. Then I remembered that I
actually find something sexy and elegant about this look on others. As much as
I avoid the mainstream media, I still notice traces of its delusional youth
worshipping in my thinking sometimes.
Truth is, I would never want to
go back to my twenties—sure you have a tight, perfect body, and the glow of
youth but I never did feel as at home in my womanliness then as I do now. The
ripening that I see in myself and in my women friends is what true beauty is
all about. There is a wiser and richer beauty that only life experience and
being comfortable in your own skin can bring.
These past few years with the
health challenges that I’ve had, I’ve been focusing a great deal of energy on
my healing. It’s certainly not so that I can stay young forever. I want this
human life—all of it.
I want to experience the
profound gift of a whole human lifespan, grey hairs and all. I want to know
what it’s like to grow old with someone and to see the beauty in them that
transcends this flesh and bone. I want to know what it feels like to hold my
grandchildren in my arms and tell them stories of days gone by. I want to see my friends birth
their babies, their art, and their destinies. I want to have a garden and grow
perennials that greet me in the spring like old friends year after year.
I wont be dying my hair. Not now
anyways. I want to savor this slow appearance of silver amidst my strands. They
are a symbol of how far I’ve come, of what I’ve lived through. They are a
celebration that I'm still here. And like scars—seen in the right light, and by the
right eyes—they are irreplaceable beauty marks and symbols of a real and
intricate human journey.
Truth is, these silver strands
are a privilege. They are a wild and radiant sign of what’s past and a marker
of what is to come.
They are the seeds of a
© 2014 Marie-Ève Bonneau