Earning the Gray

I don't feel old.

Most days I feel like I felt when I was nineteen. I feel completely young both in body and spirit. But there are things that make it a bit obvious that I'm not my spry young self - my face, the wrinkles showing up here and there, my waistline, and of course the gray in my hair.

I talked with a friend once who said she was proud of her gray. She is my exact age and she loves her slowly graying head. I admire her. I agree with her. The gray in my hair is a sign of my life experiences. I'm not young, and it's okay to show it. I earn everyone of my gray hairs. And today I've earned them - not because I have bad kids, not because my job is hard, not because my life sucks, but because I killed my best friend.

I have always wanted a dog. Three years ago I got a dog and for the past three years he has been amazing. Perfect. Except that, on occasion, he bites. I've made excuses for him, just like I would for any friend. Sometimes he's tired. Sometimes he's surprised. Sometimes he's scared. Forgive him. Not his fault. But in the end, I have no choice. Today I will go home, dig a hole, play with him for an hour, take him to the vet and watch as he slowly goes to sleep for the last time. My best friend, dead.

By tonight my best friend will be dead. And it will be my doing. It will be just and right, but it won't stop the fact that I haven't been able to keep the tears back for days now. I'm so sad I can barely breathe. I feel like there is a gigantic weight on my chest. It's all I can do to keep my head up and my eyes from tearing up. And for sure there's more gray. Today, I feel old. Very, very, very old.

Today, I've earned my gray.