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.
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