There has to be some reason for these wrinkles. The crows-feet. The deep furrows etched permanently on what used to be sun-tanned skins.
My mother used to say they were laughter lines. Grooves of happiness and the good life. Then again, she used to call the big mole on the tip of her nose a beauty spot. I think she always found a way of looking at things differently. Or maybe that’s how you survive when you are one of 10 and have such little time for yourself.
We’re clocking down to Christmas, and Christmas is for kids.