FicWad

Don't raise your eyebrows when you smile.
Mother dearest says.
It will wrinkle your forehead.
Don't squint when you're confused.
Mommy reprimands.
It will wrinkle your eye lids.
Don't tuck your chin in while you laugh,
My superhero in sweatpants insists.
It will wrinkle your neck.
Don't go in the sun so often.
The person-who-loves-me-more-than-anything advises.
It will dry your pores.
Don't wear your tennis shoes so often.
The ex-homemaker of my house scolds.
It will press your toes together.
Oh contrair,
Mommy dear.

When I'm fourty, I want to have a wrinkled face.
I want to wear a map of my life where everyone can see.
So anyone I look at can see that I've smiled with my eyebrows,
And been confused but then proceeded to solve the problem,
And laughed with an ugly chin tucked too far,
and dance among the clouds and sun without a worry,
and ran and ran and ran until I couldn't catch my breath.
I wish that I could show off how happy,
strong
and determined my younger self was.

More importantly,
I don't want to smother my life now,
worrying about such petty things then.
I will run with bare feet,
and fall out of trees,
and cut myself shaving,
and laugh because no matter how young I am,
I'll never be as perfect as Mother Dearest.

That way when I'm eigthy and have grandchildren on my lap,
my withered palm will be a testament to a life well lived.

Where will your grandchildren be,
Mommy-Hero,
because I guarentee it won't be in your perfect,
unmarked
arms.