widowed

i tell myself little stories to make me feel better or at least more knowledgeable about topics that make me uncomfortable. sometimes they're stories that i've heard before from other people or sometimes i make em up. the story i have about getting old and wrinkled is that you have lines all over your palms from the moment you're born and they articulate who you are and what your fate will be but you hide it there, you hide it in your uncertainty, and hold it tight.
when you are old you wear destiny lines brashly on your face you know who you've been and are, all you've laughed and cried and lived and you can greet people with it and be as certain about it as you are about their inevitable fate and let it burrow into the place you think of as your own more than any other.