My lucky good life

I keep wanting to take down that naked-faced photo of me in the previous post. I'm not in love with all that gray in my hair, even though I know that ten years from now, this will seem such an unforgivable vanity. Vanity or no, I'm sitting here, saying good morning to you, while waiting for a box of color to work on said gray. I go back and forth, liking my gray edges sometimes, liking especially when they catch the light and look silvery, but at other times, they just make me feel gray. 

My husband happens to be fond of my gray and would have me not color it, though he is never declarative about things pertaining to other people's personhood. He jokes, however, that he and our kids put every turned hair there, and that's why he loves them. I appreciate that he's cool with me as I am, but sometimes, I'm up for a little color play.

Still, the physical ease I'm grateful to feel in his presence has me thinking this morning about something my daughter told me when we were away. She was remembering a comment her dad once made, which she now holds dear. She said he told her, "You know, when I got married, I thought I loved your mother, but I really had no idea how much more I would love her with each passing year. And when she had my children, I thought my heart would explode." When our girl told me this, tears pricked my eyes. My man might stubborn as hell when it comes to things like going to the doctor, but Lord, what a good man I married, and what a wonderful father I gave my children.