When grace is joined by wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age. – Victor Hugo
Please don’t retouch my wrinkles. It took me so long to earn them. – Anna Magnani
One year ago last month
in the Great Meredith Renovation of 2013
after much, erhm, spirited debate
David and I reached a peaceful resolution to the exasperating question of:
Carpet on the stairs, or hardwood?
The beauty of our wood floor, its ease of cleaning – and our naive belief that our children were too old to fall down the stairs – won out over the traditional safety of our previously-carpeted stairs.
Ten days ago I fell down those stairs.
I could feel it happen. Side note: walking and texting is dangerous.
So are un-hemmed Lululemon pants.
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. – John Lubbock
We must cultivate our own garden. – Voltaire
The wrinkles are winning.
A friend stopped by Wednesday to pick up something I’d forgotten to give her last week. I answered the door puffy-eyed, snotty-nosed, and gingerly touching my ever deepening crows feet.
Are you okay?
She’s one of those who remembers sooner than most that my life isn’t normal.
Sure, I said, just … June.
Each year you play Germany to my Poland, blitzkrieging your runny nose Luftwaffe, Panzer tank congestion, and goose step sneezes into my sinuses until I surrender with a weak Seig Heil and curl up on the couch with Benadryl and three boxes of Kleenex.