Wrinkle Today, Fold Tomorrow
Last night I was sitting with my son. With fourteen years of age under his belt he was responsibly doing his homework while I at forty-four I was playing a video game. I was hacking my way across Oblivion when I felt his finger touch the skin behind my ear. I imagined I must have had some ugly black piece of crud, perhaps a remnant of nuzzling with the dog. "I don't like that." He said. "What is it?" I asked him. I wondered, did I have a cancerous spot or something? He pushed his finger against my skin again pulling it flat. "It's a wrinkle. I don't want my pop to grow old." He said hugging me. "I have gotten used to the age spots you used to not have yet now do but I don't like this wrinkle." He noticed the distress on my face and added in a consoling way, "I guess you are only in your forties Pop, you are not that old." When you are a child everything seems new. The girls you know have skin still