day 233: skin
My skin feels tight. Not the good kind of tight that comes from being fat-free. The kind of tight that means stressed out. A loss of elasticity. An oldness.And I use both hands to pinch and tug a little at it. I run my fingers slowly and gently over my face as I lie in bed, and it is like palm-reading. Like I can feel memories buried there, right under the surface. And I can almost make predictions and see my future. My sons' weddings and nuzzling grandbabies.
Then I close my eyes and feel the skin on my neck. It is getting small creases in it. Creases from looking up at my sons' faces. From tilting my head to the side to hear little children speak to me. From age.
My skin does not lie. It is my shell. Imperfections and all. I turn onto my side, bury that face and neck into my sleeping husband's back and drift off.
7 comments
I love how you can trace your life on your skin. I have been reflecting on my own skin a lot lately and thought about writing about it, too.
Skin is neat.
Beautiful. Your skin and your writing.
Well, what thoughts you have there. Hope you had sweet dreams.
I love how you find deep symbolism in everything. Beautiful imagery.
This metaphor is absolutely amazing. I believe that wrinkles are the physical versions of our life history. At least that's what mine are.
Beautiful post, Kazzy. It was so true and easy to identify with. What a great writer you are! Have a good weekend.
I agree...your symbolism and imagery are stunningly managed with so few words.
I hope you are writing a novel. You have real talent.
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