It's a basic irony that at the time we are the most physically perfect we are the most emotionally insecure. Others see the fire and newness of youth during the time our mirrors magnify only the perception of imperfection.
Photographs have a way of showing us what we remember, but little of what others see.
I remember trying to teach myself to write left-handed in grade school so that my right hand could lay naturally on my right knee... where I was convinced a brown freckle was a hideous beacon. Had they not passed the world-shaking rule allowing girls to wear slacks (not pants, not jeans) to school, I was destined for convent school.
Only time allows the gradual correction on your view of photographs and eventually allows a glimpse at the possibilities of previous beauty.
My younger daughter, Jen, is stunning -- a stop them dead on the street enchantress. I have no genetic contribution to her magnificent creation, but still enjoy parental pride when others comment on her beauty.
As she has hit her 20s she's found an inner self that matches the external. Her small daily gestures make the gradual difference between a perfect rosebud and an extravagant bloom.
But she sees neither in the mirror, just another flower in a large field.
At dinner tonight our friend Christophe, an amazing artist, (www.cgoodstein.com WOW!) mentioned he would like to start on a sculpture of Jen on Sunday -- it was hard to keep my heart from leaping across the room.
He sees and will translate who she is now. While a certain grace and beauty come with time for all of us, there is no other way I can imagine to better grab and hold on to the exquisite truth of who and what she is right now.
It's like capturing a firefly on a summer's night and having it glow forever.
I'm excited right now.
She'll be thrilled when she sits where I am now.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs