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Wednesday, May. 26, 2004 - 11:12 p.m. BLADE OF GREEN I do not know why we must be born cute and adorable, advance through our youth with innocence, grace, and beauty, only to have time slowly take it all away. Then as we grow older, a new crop comes to take our place, and when we look at it, we see the same beauty we once saw, only this time we realize we can never have it back. And this new crop also ultimately ages and dies. I suppose a similar analogy can be made for an empty lot of grass that goes without being cut all summer. As the summer fades into the fall and fall into winter, the taller blades of grass begin to no longer grow, dry out, and eventually die. What is left is a brown patch of standing hay. However, even though the loss of sunlight, the brutal freezes, and just the overall time of year kills most of that grass, every now and then you will find a blade or two that remain green. Somehow this tiny patch of grass survives the winter, and is the first to take off in the spring. Why or how this patch survives the winter is a either a mystery or a mere matter of chance. I would have to look in the mirror at age 27 and see myself still very much green, even while age is starting to touch everyone around me. I can still confidently blend in with younger crops even though internally I am more aged than my appearance would indicate. Maybe my extended life through winter after winter was given to me for a reason. Without this extension, my physical age would overwhelm me, and my confidence in my physical appearance would be nonexistent. Of course, I will read this entry a year from now and scoff at it, wishing I was 27 instead of 28. Then when I am 29. Then, heaven forbid, 30. I will only wish I could read this entry through a younger pair of eyes, halting time in its tracks, seeing myself as who I would want to eternally be. I suppose I should just stop sulking and hope that love finds me in the future whether I be old or young. |