The wrinkles in her skin didn’t defy the aging process, rather they embraced it. Each groove a different depth hinting at the places her soul had experienced the affect of being a human in this life. Each crease seemed to be a continuation of the last proving she had a past- a past that wanted to leap out and speak from the chasm her life created. She was long past the point of putting lotions and creams on to cover up her history. Each wrinkle tired of her trying to only live at the surface. No, her life was entering the honor roll of maturity marked by the gathering of lines upon her face.