Touch of Gray: Accepting Self

Salt & Pepper, snow on the mountain, sign of wisdom-it's all gray hair. I convinced myself that using these euphemisms would lessen the reality of life and aging; but let's face it-I've had my gray hair from the age of 17 and trust me when I say I had very little wisdom then. My mother and father went gray prematurely. Edna Mae, my mother, was known as "The Silver Fox" and Leslie, my father, delighted in getting a senior discount at the tender age of 40. I, however, did not share in their delight. I've had every hair color in the rainbow-attempts-five years to be exact. Once I did stop, everyone loved the gray hair but me. I had a chance to look at some pictures taken on a night out with friends and I could see myself the way everyone else was seeing me (maybe it was the margaritas). It wasn't that bad. Gray hair is just another shade of me. It may not guarantee wisdom, but it does say, "I've been here a minute, do you have any questions?"