Wrinkles

Our house is filled with photographs depicting events both great and small…I find them in the pages of our family albums on our desks and framed upon our walls. When I see them they make me smile…remembering a moment…and what’s more…I realize in each photo…chronologically… I’m a little older than the one taken before. Yes, when looking at old photographs…I am mesmerized…I’m thoroughly engaged as I remember happy moments then think how much I’ve aged. I remember each different moment… at a different time…in a different place…and I can’t help but also notice a few more wrinkles on my face. Reminding me in black-and-white and color I’m not the young man I use to be…although I have to admit, over the years, this has less of a tender spot for me Because when I gaze upon the photos in our albums, on our desks or on our walls, this I also see…how I’m surrounded in each photo…by my friends and family. And when I look at every photo…I am smiling…I’m elated…which makes me proud of all those wrinkles all those smiles have created. So now, when I walk around our house… at whatever picture I happen to be glancing… I feel my face… as I remember the time… the place… and the people who keep these wrinkles dancing.