my mother.
A gentle, loving woman with hazel eyes and graying brown hair.
She hides her age behind her clothes and makeup.

But age does not define a person,
their heart and soul do.

I see the wrinkles around my mother’s eyes and know they are for each year of laughter.

I see the wrinkles around her mouth and know it’s from smiling so much.

I see her graying brown hair and her age is showing.

But I see her for who she is, a beautiful woman.
A beautiful woman with greying hair because of the stress of being in college and working.
The added pressure of having two children and a husband.

But every grey hair is another memory added.