If Wrinkles Could Tell Stories

One thing I've learned from living in a city, is that wrinkles do, in fact, tell stories. Or else, they inspire me to make up the stories of individual people's lives and remind me to be grateful that my face will not always be so smooth.

I remember the first time I thought about wrinkles. I was on a missions trip and one of the men who went with us, Bob, had what our culture colloquially call "crows feet". I loved them and I turned to my Mom saying, "I can't wait until I have crows feet." She chuckled as she turned to me and asked me why on earth I should have such a desire. I told her that they were a sign of much smiling and laughter, and that was the story that I wanted my face to tell.

I am sure that we have all seen remarkable faces that seem to withstand the test of time. Abraham Lincoln's wrinkles continue to tell stories through his statue in the Capitol building. It is rumored that one side of his face is more tight and staunch, while the other side is more soft and compassionate. The one side of his face is supposed to resemble his famous "Honest Abe" title, while the other is supposed to demonstrate his love for the American people. Wrinkles do, in fact, tell stories.


But what of the ordinary person? Do their wrinkles tell stories? As I strolled through the metro I saw the face of a person that was sure to tell a story. I have never seen anyone with such sad wrinkles. The old woman's face was gaunt, as the wrinkles hung in the shape of a frown; the folds of skin sagging from her cheeks almost enveloping her mouth as she forlornly gazed off into the distance. These were not the wrinkles of a sour woman, but of someone who had lost hope. Her eyes gave it all away, for they looked on as if they could see no more. Even the light cast on her face from the metro could not muster up a shimmer in her face. It was as if she had been overcome by a never ending darkness and a inescapable depression.

I will never meet this woman again, but her wrinkles gave the etchings of a story that will  not remain untold. I suppose I shall never know the exact stories of all the people I see in the metro or on the street, but perhaps the stories that their faces tell have less to do with their outward appearance and more to do with their outlook on life.


While most commercial entities like CoverGirl and Glamour Magazine are trying to sell women of all ages products to eliminate wrinkles, make us look younger, and dye our hair, 15 year old me was set on finding me a pair of those crows feet. And even though modern cosmetic companies try to sell us products to erase the wear and tear of time, God tells us that wrinkles and gray hair are a sign of wisdom. 

Could it be that modern culture is trying to erase our stories?

I'll leave that question for another day, but for now, I think I'm going to go and find me some crow's feet.