Dear small narratives etched onto my face, the wrinkles I once tried to remove. I appreciate you for reminding me of my story. I am getting older. I will not feel embarrassed about the journey I display on my face. I will not conceal your heritage with Botox and filler. I will not attempt to mask the lines or blemishes reflected back at me. I am excited to witness this process, to undergo life unfolding upon me. Each line encircling my eyes recalls the many times I’ve been fortunate to laugh until tears rolled, or even better, laugh until I almost cried. Each tiny crease on my lips narrates the countless kisses I've planted on a lover's lips, or the millions that have graced my daughter's forehead and cheeks.
I eagerly anticipate, and hope I am fortunate, to see these lines extend, narrating my tale. May I become a woman of a million more laughs, a billion more kisses on my daughter's cheeks. The furrows on my forehead from contemplating a new idea—may I understand even more. May my squint lines from the glare off the waves, witness many more delightful moments spent on the beach, surfing the ocean waves, basking in the sun all day. How fortunate am I to witness the blessing of aging on me?
I am more attractive than ever, each wrinkle will reveal more. More knowledge, more blessings, more gifts all carried within me. Aging is a privilege to witness—nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to conceal, only something remarkable to be celebrated. Everything to commemorate, everything to cherish. Dear little lines, may I be so fortunate to witness your increase in number and depth.
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