Swiftly go the years! (You know that song, right, from Fiddler on the Roof? Truer words were never spoken.)
I was a brand new, utterly besotted grandmother. The tiny identical twin girls in my arms were practically bald and I had a full head of healthy dark brown hair.
I am now a grandmother to 17-going-on-19 and those same twin granddaughters will be taller than their Grammy any day now. Their hair looks almost exactly like mine used to, while mine is thinning and graying.
But all the downsides of aging are wiped away by the privilege of getting to watch my grandchildren grow up— of being able to witness these two sweet little girls morphing into poised young ladies right before my very eyes, these past four-plus years that they’ve been our neighbors.
Thank you, God, for this and for so many other things!
P.S. If you want to be happy turning into an old lady: marry a man who, when the sun hits your head just so and really highlights how the silver hairs are definitely beginning to outnumber the brown ones, loves what he sees and tells you how pretty your hair looks. That's the guy I married.