There’s nothing more jolting than getting a new passport photo. It’s a forced opportunity to compare photos of yourself separated by a decade. The old passport photo is what you think you look like. And the new one? Well, let’s just say that denial can only go so far. “Someone photoshopped my face!” I declared. Kerri rolled her eyes. I also disparaged the camera and the photographer but neither of those ruses gained traction. “Wow,” I said in full acceptance, “I’d better start smiling more so the grooves in my face will be appealing.”
I’m spending an inordinate amount of time on Zoom these days so I have ample opportunity to watch myself watching others. The harsh morning light poured in the window yesterday amplifying my age. “I need a better videographer,” I said, but no one got the joke. The light made my grey beard glow so I soothed my startled soul with daydreams of someday becoming a wizard.
20 says that young people look at him like he’s furniture. “It’s like I don’t exist,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed and added, “but I’d rather be happy in my new role as furniture than go back in time and be lost in the nonsense of my youth.”
I like the guy in my new passport photo. I don’t recognize his face but he laughs more and cares less. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a good trade. And, no one ever promised that progress was pretty.
read Kerri’s blog post about AGING
smack-dab. © 2021 kerrianddavid.com
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The Direction of Intention 
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