Wrinkles

Yesterday Ian and I were brushing our teeth, making faces at each other in the bathroom mirror.  He touched the corners of my mouth.  “You’re getting wrinkly,” he said.  It’s true.

I am too young for wrinkles, but there is a definite concentration around my mouth, exactly where my face creases when I grin.  Smile lines, earned by a life of laughing.  Smile lines because my husband is a good joke teller and makes me smile fifty billion times a day.  They’re not going to make me any younger, but they’re kind of like a badge of pride.  I’d rather wear my happiness on my face than have a flawless complexion.  So when I’m eighty and my wrinkles are carved deep into my face you’ll know why.

Filed under Life | Comment (1)