Morrison took these pictures of me after our New Year’s eve dinner the other night. YES, we got dressed up to go downstairs and play board games over Zoom because Joe had just pooped on me in a big wet way and well, I needed to swing quite far in the other direction. When he showed them to me later I was surprised to see Myself, not an old fat Mom with a suspicious crusty patch of baby formula in her hair, but a girl who once put dresses on and had time and space to wonder and ponder and follow random thoughts like little paths off the main road through the woods. I don’t usually do New Year’s resolutions, but maybe this year, I will commit to staying myself. Is that a thing? Do I get to still feel young even when I’m oldish? More tangibly, I resolve to start using eye cream, for real this time, pat it underneath and above to lock in past years, because the eyes are the loudmouths of the face, the confessors, the broadcast news, the over-sharers. They tell everything, no matter how youngish old you are.
