My little brother likes to give my mom a little bit of crap for her “wrinkles”, and as much as we tell him to stop, he’s 18 years old, and she’s a sensitive mother. But, ya know, wrinkles aren’t “bad”.
“Age should not have its face lifted, but it should rather teach the world to admire wrinkles as the etchings of experience and the firm line of character.”
“Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks.”
“Please don’t retouch my wrinkles. It took me so long to earn them.”
So, for all you people out there with “wrinkle-fear” as I have come to call it, who cares. Wear them proudly. They are evidence that you have survived. They deem you respect. They tell stories without your tongue needing to make a sound. They share wisdom for years. They speak of a time we can only imagine. Of laughter and good times, or sadness and terror.
So forget about those comments made my punk kids, and laugh at their lack of knowledge, because one day they will come back to you and ask for it, with wrinkles of their own.