Wrinkles

Note: I’m not really sure where this came from; just some random idea I had at some point, I guess. It doesn’t really fit into the general feel of this blog, and I’ve been somewhat hesitant to post it. However, maybe it’s time for something a bit different anyway, especially considering that it’s the Christmas season.

The room was warm and cozy, and it smelled like cinnamon. The old woman sat on a faded brown couch, thumbing through a gardening magazine.

A little girl bounded into the room. “Read me a story?”

The old woman put down the magazine and smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she said. “Now run along and get us a book.”

“Okay!”

The old woman’s granddaughter scurried off to another room, her blonde pigtails bouncing like they had a life of their own. The old woman watched her go. “My, my, to have pep in my step like that again,” she murmured, shaking her head in amusement.

The little girl reappeared moments later, a battered book with a picture of a puppy on its cover clutched tightly in her hands. “This one,” she announced happily.

The old woman held out her arms, and the little girl scrambled up into her lap. She wiggled about until she found a comfortable sitting position and then handed the book to her grandmother.

The old woman eyed it for moment before innocently asking, “Do you think that Peter Puppy will make it home for Christmas this time around?”

The little girl twisted her head back and laughed. “Grandma, he always makes it home!”

“Well you never know. Maybe this time it’ll turn out different, so I think we’d better find out.”

“Yeah! Let’s!”

The old woman flipped the book open to the first page. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a little hand on her cheek.

 

“Grandma?”

“Yes?”

“Why is your face so bumpy?”

“Bumpy?”

“Yes, bumpy.” The little girl ran her hand over the old woman’s cheek, tracing the rough contours of her skin.

The old woman chuckled. “Those are wrinkles.”

“Oh.” The little girl frowned. “Why do you have them?”

“It just happens to people when they get older.”

“Oh.” She frowned again. “But why?”

The old woman opened her mouth to speak, but she found she had no answer.

“Grandma,” the little girl persisted, “Why do people get wrinkles?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Can you try?”

“Well…” The old woman’s voice trailed off as she looked up at the ceiling, her brow furrowed.

The little girl studied the old woman intently. “Grandma?”

“Hold on.”

A few moments later, the old woman looked down to the little girl. “You know what? Maybe I will try to explain it.”

“Okay!”

“You see,” the old woman said, pulling the little girl closer, “a wrinkle means that you love somebody.”

The little girl scrunched up her nose. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You have lots of wrinkles.” The little girl traced a finger over the old woman’s cheek. “Here, here, and here!”

“That means I love a lot of people.”

“Like who?”

“Pick one and I’ll tell you who.”

The little girl traced a wrinkle on the old woman’s forehead. “This one.”

“That’s for your grandfather.”

“It is?”

“Yes, and I’ll bet there are a few more up there, too. Those are for your mom and your dad.”

The little girl, her mouth open wide, examined the old woman’s forehead and nodded. “There is,” she whispered. She pointed to a line on the old woman’s cheek. “What about this one?”

“That one?”

“Yeah!”

“That one’s for you.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I got that wrinkle the day you were born.”

“Wow,” breathed the little girl.

“And the rest of them are for everybody else in the family and some of my dear friends, too. I could tell you about them all, but it’d take a long time and we’d never get to the story.”

“We probably wouldn’t,” agreed the little girl. “There sure are a lot of them!”

The old lady chuckled. “Should we get back to the book?”

The little girl didn’t reply. Instead, she rubbed her hands on her own cheeks. “Why don’t I have any wrinkles?” she asked. “I love people too!”

The old woman leaned in and kissed the little girl on the forehead. “I’m sure you do,” she said, “but wrinkles won’t come until you get a little bit older.”

“Why?”

“So you’ll appreciate them more.”

“But what if you don’t love anybody at all?”

“Then you’ll never get wrinkles. You never want to be an old woman without wrinkles.”

The little girl smiled. “I’ll bet I’ll have lots of wrinkles when I grow up! More than even you!”

The old woman laughed. “I hope you do.”

The little girl pointed to the middle of her forehead. “I’ll get one right here for you!”

“You will?”

“Uh-huh!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“And there’ll be another one for Grandpa right above it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”

The little girl, finally satisfied, returned her focus to the book. “Read, Grandma!”

“All right.”

A short time later, a man walked into room, just as the little girl was sliding off the old woman’s lap. “So,” he said, “Grandma got to read you a story, did she?”

“Yes!”

“Did you thank her?”

“Yes!”

“Good job.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait ‘til I get wrinkles!”