This morning as I prepare to have my picture taken for our church directory, I stare into the mirror at all the extra “baggage” under my eyes. I may have aged 10 years in the two and a half months I’ve been caring for my parents.
Perhaps I just slept on my face wrong, I think hopefully. Or maybe it’s the humidity that causes my skin to puff and sag like a limp water balloon. Will it go away when I return to arid Utah? Or have the caring, crying, laughing, and vexations of these past months been written indelibly on my face?
Then I ponder the alternatives. I’m not the type to sit in a protective penthouse, high above the cares and needs of others. Nor am I the type to pull and stretch my aging skin, or inject it with toxins until I hardly recognize my image in the mirror. And I’d much rather collect facial baggage than hop aboard the next flight to eternity.
No, I’ll wear my new wrinkles with pride. With that said, I hope Olin Mills has a good airbrush.
Sue
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