Art du Jour 29

I have taken my own advice and gotten serious for a minute. This is a portrait of the famous W.  Perhaps his own children won’t recognize him, but that’s okay. I’m rather proud of this labour of love.

When I showed it to him he knew who it was and laughed.  I took that as a good sign that I hadn’t traumatized him for life.

Yesterday W came across a picture on Facebook of someone we haven’t seen for over thirty years and remarked that he looks awful.  He doesn’t really, he just looks old, because, well, he’s old.  We see our own changes gradually, and are often shocked at the changes in other people with whom we’ve lost touch.  Inside I feel like I’ve never left my thirties, but the mirror tells a different story.

So this is not the face I married, although he’s in there somewhere.  I’m going to hang on to this until we’re in our nineties and then show it to him again so we can both see how handsome he was way back in the day.  This is of course supposing we both live that long and can still see and remember where we put things.

I was looking at celebrity high school yearbook pictures on some Facebook site (yes, we both have way too much time on our hands these cold dreary January days) and the captions were statements of disbelief and what happened?  Well, time happened, you idiot caption writer.

Here’s to time and the wonderful changes it makes to our life-well-lived faces.