I’ve been thinking about wrinkles, and it’s making me kind of happy. I know that sounds funny, but I’ve decided that I want to live and love so much that when I am older, I will see crinkles like starbursts around my eyes and find laugh lines jump-roping across my cheeks. I want them so that when I look in the mirror someday, I will see all the memories and all the people I have loved etched indelibly in my skin.

I want to see them in the corners of my eyes and around my mouth and along my nose because I want to know, at the end of everything, that I lived life as fully as I could and loved as much my heart could hold.  And maybe then some.

I don’t want to see my face when I look in the mirror.

I want to see a lot more than that.

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