Getting older

I'm sitting here with acne cream smeared across my itchy, breakout-prone skin and thinking . . .

My mother turned 50 a few days ago and told me that she hasn't had her period since January. I couldn't find a joke in it except to say, "Aw, no more little brothers or sisters." To which she smiled and laughed. No, no more. She is getting older.

I notice the squinting lines around her eyes and the frown marks on her forehead that won 't go away. When did all of this happen? Her mortality is forcing a previously undiscovered grossly unselfish side of me to emerge. I want to be nice. I want to enjoy.

And me, I'll be 24 in a few days. Nowhere where I thought I'd be at this age and yet somehow I never thought I'd be anywhere. My body's changing, too. My hands seem more weathered. My body more like a woman . . .eagerly anticipating the motherhood that awaits somewhere in between "not for a very long time" and "being a youngish mom."

I found a gray hair, definitely not my first, but not any less alarming. I stared at the gray root that grew into black. I stared for a good minute or so at the lonely hair in my hand and realized time goes by. This hair follicule will never grow my natural black hair again.

And I've had acne since I was 14 or 15. Nearly a decade I've dealt with it. A sign of youth, but my mother still breaks out. Hormones, they say. It's strange, looking at the Mom Mirror.

When I got my first period, she was closing in on her baby-making years. She's finished her last period and I'm closing in on the baby-making years.

The timing is timeless. It happens all the time.

And twice today, women named Adrienne were mothers. Once on a soap and once in a book . . .right when I was thinking of one day becoming a mom. Weird timing.

There's no way to end this entry except to say I hope I don't get a pimple this weekend! It's going to be very high-profile one for me. I turn 24 on Sunday! :)