I tried to hold on to the moment before wrinkles developed on fingers, wrists, toes. No one told me before you were born, I was completely unaware the lines would be missing. The smooth skin barren of the marks age, time, life will map on your small body, but I missed it. One day they were there, marring each joint. In the blackout, lasting for days, I allowed myself in the dark, sitting by your side, to run my fingers over those tiny places and imagined the wrinkles had vanished.
About the Author
Ann M Lawrence is a graduate of Knox College with a Bachelors in Creative Writing. She lives and works in her hometown of Homewood, Illinois with her husband, son, three cats, and dog Nelson.