…why, I do not know. Perhaps because I kept them hidden for so long. Not out of shame, or fear, or denial. Merely because I liked to change things up a bit, try something different. A few times a year the desire to break free of the old, to embrace the new took me over. Last year I found myself indulging in this desire, this need even more than before. And so, as an incidental consequence, they were forced into camaflouge.
But these urges took their toll, damaging that which I loved so much, and I realized that I must suppress these desires, allow my beloved to grow healthy again. And so I left well enough alone.
That was when they decided to show up. Oh, I knew they lurked. And the thought of them reappearing truly did not bother me. They were inevitable and I was pefectly fine with their presence.
Until one day I took a good long look at them, there at the top. When I saw them – really saw them – I gasped. For there were more than I remembered. And they brought plenty of friends. Indeed, they and their friends took up permanent residence, like houseguests that would never, ever leave. And suddenly I felt the weight of age slam on down on my head.
Stupid gray hairs…