There is a secret to growing old that I struggle to embrace. I believe it has something to do with accepting the changes. What once was a rather unified surface is now an unexpected, lumpy terrain that refuses to cooperate with my wardrobe. Things that stood high have shifted and settled. It's taken me a long time to become settled. It should feel better. It should feel more like an arrival. It should feel like wining a medal or some kind of symbol as to how far I've come.
I see this tree everyday when I walk the dogs. She wears her lumps and crevices proudly, front and center. This embrace forms a very strong symbol; one that reminds me how much further I have to go.