Cold Bones

After fussing with my AI book editor this morning, I deleted most all of it’s suggestions and went back to the source material…my brain. It’s not like it’s rewrote anything, it’s just it’s suggestion for arranging the book is strange at best. So I’m going to take it’s suggestions while keeping an eye on what and how I want it said. At the moment I’m using you guys as a Guinea Pig just to get my thoughts flowing. What started out as a fairly nice sunny morning has turned into a dreary cloudy and cold day.

So I’m bundled up in one of my thick old chambray shirts from Terrytown that has luckily survived the years. Back when I was 350+ lbs. and could barely get it around my belly. To now where it’s soft, worn, and faded like an old friend you ain’t lost a moment with after 30 years. I look at my arm and notice a new blood spot that has showed up out of the blue. It sits a few inches above the permanent scab on my left hand. A wound that hasn’t completely healed in over two years. When I look in the mirror I’ve never been impressed with what I saw. From a fat four-eyed kid without a clue or motivation to an old man, lighter than before but wrinkled like a prune, with more skin than ambition.

But through it all I’ve learned to accept my scars, mostly because what choice do I have? I’m way beyond changing too much, the internal damage has taken care of that. But I can change my attitude and my mindset. While I’m long past resighting affirmations to get me through the day. I can at least look at the sun breaking through the morning clouds and say to myself, “If the sun can do it, so can I”. so I hope the experiment wasn’t too bad, listening to me drone on about getting over it and moving on. But it’s the best I can do, while I wait for the sun to warm my cold bones.

 
#Aging #Reflection #SelfEsteem #Hopefulness #Mindfulness