Face Time

I take the city bus from time to time. While I always feel really urban and green when I do, the best part for me is the people watching.

For example, I recently discovered the practice of tattooing names on your face or neck. One funkily dressed lady had names in script tattooed on her cheeks, forehead, and chin, as if someone with fine penmanship had inscribed “Joe” on her cheek. Another, more the jeans and tee shirt type, had a list of names tattooed around her neck, like a choker necklace. It was striking.

I came home and stared at myself in the mirror, wondering who I loved enough to tattoo their name on my face. And as I stared at the laugh lines and the worry lines, I realized that they’re all already memorialized on my face.

There, around my mouth, are all the times you made me laugh.

And there, around my eyes, are all the times I cried with you.

And there, right there between my eyes, is the line from furrowing my brow in worry over you.

I don’t need to tattoo your names on myself. You’re written all over my face.

What about you? How do you wear those you love?


  1. My goodness what a beautifully written post. Your words drew me in an got me thinking.

    I smile a lot and it is my husband and children that have contributed to the permanent smile lines on my face. If I had to imagine their names tattooed anywhere, it’d be somewhere across my across my heart, not original but true none the less.

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