Someone needs a hug!

I love embracing when it involves

another human. Wait, I must qualify:

when it reciprocally involves a human

I love, embracing

is a fine way to share a moment.

But when it comes to embracing my grays

or my age, or even my inner child?

Not so much.

An embrace should be a mutual exchange,

not a surrender to the inevitable.

Maybe my birth certificate reveals that

I am firmly entrenched in Middle Age,

but why should that dictate the kind of

clothing I wear or my activity level?

And just because I like to dye my gray hairs

doesn’t mean I’m afraid of who

I’m becoming. Or dissatisfied with who I am.

It might be different if those things had

something to give me in return.

Wait, I must qualify:  give me

something I enjoy in return.

But no. Gray clashes with my skin tone.

Age attempts to steal my grace, not enhanced it.

And my inner child? She throws way too many

temper tantrums.

So it’s been decided. I won’t embrace anything

Until it can embrace me back.