My 5x magnifying mirror reflected some bad news one morning last week.  Overnight, a single silver hair had sprouted in each of my very black eyebrows.  Compared to the other body changes I’ve faced of late, not so bad.  Still, it is another indicator that I am not getting younger.

Two days later, I was standing in line to board a flight home from Washington, DC. A blond woman whom I would describe as on the wrong side of fifty-five was standing near the gate, hoping to get a seat on the plane.  “Judy Kugel!” she shouted.  She saw my look expressing “Who the heck is that?” and said her name.  I hadn’t seen her for twenty-five years, and never would have recognized her.

So maybe two gray hairs in my eyebrows isn’t so tragic.