I was tempted to use filters, but didn’t.
There’s so much that’s unforgettable about this face.
I’ve lived a life in this skin. Every time I look in the mirror, I see a new line, a new wrinkle. Sign that I survived another day, another flare-up.
Another week or month of side effects and or symptoms of a new medicine that shows up on your face in the most unique ways.
I don’t mind because this face isn’t just mine anymore; the cheeks and nose belong to my younger son. My older one got my forehead.
None of them inherited these extreme dark circles, thank the Lord for that. Although for me, it feels like I was born with them. Oh, and I’m happy to report that they both inherited my dry, flaky skin.
What I’m saying is that my face, my traits, are not good or bad. They are me, and now they are a part of the children. They don’t define the person I am, but they connect me to my children and my family.
How could I not love how my kids’ faces look?
[Boys, love, children, family, my face]
To Whom It May Concern 