For just a minute, try to remember what it felt like to be five years old. The half-second lag at the top of the swings, the smell of fresh cut summer grass, the feeling of sand in every crevice of your swimsuit. As children, our sidewalk chalk drawings were Picasso’s and our bicycles were magic carpets. We colored the world with crayons, curiosity, and laughter.
Children possess a special kind of contagious optimism that carries them through their small lives. They are blissfully unfazed by the opinions of others. Through all the scraped knees and playground splinters, they continue to try new things and peak out at the world through a lens of joy. Their hearts are bigger, their blues are bluer, and their afternoons are longer. Can you remember how good it felt to be that full of wonder?
As women, one of our greatest collective fears seems to be the fear of growing older. I mean, be honest: When was the last time someone you know actually looked forward to their 30th birthday? I’m only 24 years old and yet I’ve already been told numerous times by others that I should be using anti-wrinkle creams, exercising diligently, etc. in order to hold onto my youth for as long as possible. In their words, “it’s all downhill from here.”
Sometimes when you see an old, wrinkly grandma, your first thought is "awe, how cute," but not much more. Or, she is that old person walking miserably slow on the sidewalk that you can't pass, or perhaps driving terribly because she can no longer see