Fresh eyes

When I was young, I could sense my mother's insecurities and mind boggling flaws.  It was like a slow revelation.  The kind of revelation you get when you eat chili made with peppers that give off a latent heat.  You know something is coming, you just don't know when.  I knew something was wrong, but I was not into peers, just family.  Once, I was able to visit friends and see how their mothers cooked breakfast, I knew that she had missed the mark something terrible.  I thought that this was going to go away, but the years have passed and I discover something new everyday.  Age does that to you.  I accept that she should have died young and that her way should have been hard.  There was really no other choice but that.  The beauty of youth is that it is eternally optimistic.  The beauty of wisdom is that it is eternal, period.  It unveils the world slowly and sweetly.  By the time you see the ugly and the unlovely, you are able to handle ugly and unlovely.  Each year brings fresh eyes and new interpretation.  The old folks said, that I would understand it better by and by.   I did.