link rel="apple-touch-icon" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7Sv4ukXNKhE/Tvywu2kH72I/AAAAAAAAH2c/I0vpwdHuLoA/s1600/superb.png"/> A Wrinkle In Time | Priester Photography

A Wrinkle In Time


I have a wrinkle on my forehead, several actually, but the one in question is a vertical wrinkle that sits directly above my nose and between my eyebrows.
 At first glance you may think it's from frowning a lot, and while I'm sure frowning didn't make the ravine any more shallow I'm fairly certain that it gets its depth from a quizzical expression that I wear quite frequently.
 "She said what?"--wrinkled forehead.

"It's how much?"--wrinkled forehead.

"9x7 is 63?"--wrinkled forehead.
 I guess you could call it a wrinkle of concentration.

A wrinkle of study.

A wrinkle of questioning and thinking.
 But it's still a wrinkle and I'm told they're bad.
 A few days ago a dear friend approached me with a mothering look on her face.

(I say "dear friend" because she really is.  She's the kind of friend that I can completely ignore for months, years even, and when we finally make contact again we just pick right back up where we left off (though this does leave us dreadfully behind sometimes)).
 The mothering look is that look that someone gives you right before they fix a wayward hair, hand you a tissue, or wipe dirt off your face.

As the dear friend came at me with the mothering look and her finger I wondered what level of dishevelment I had reached at this point so early in the day.

I figured there was chocolate on my cheek.
 But her finger went straight to my forehead.

Directly above my nose.

Between my eyebrows.
 She rubbed briskley with a determined look on her face and then rubbed some more.

I accepted her grooming of myself much like a little child.

At the very moment that I feared she was going to lick her finger and try again I realized what she thought was a dirt mark (or chocolate) and was trying to remove from my forehead was in fact my wrinkle.
In order to avoid "dear friend" spit on my forehead, I lowered my eyes, knitted my brow (emphasizing the canyon) and simply said, "It's not dirt".

A look of shock and then understanding flashed across her face.

And then we laughed hysterically.

Ah.

"Good friends".

It's a good thing I won't be seeing her for another six months.
B

You can see the rest of this mini-session here under "James Gang".

1 comments:

WSMIL said...

James gang photos are excellent. And thanks for new stuff, I needed an antedote to Monday work blues, thanks!

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