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Monday, July 11, 2016


My whole life I wanted freckles. Did I have them? That would be a no. Do I now? Another no. I remember when I was about ten, I got my mom’s eyebrow pencil and made brown dots on my face—thought it looked cool and that people would think I had freckles.

Suppose some people did but relatives and friends who knew me, knew that I had “faked” those freckles. And I had to wash them off before my parents got home from work.
Kept hoping that freckles would appear on my face but alas and alack, they never did.

Funny thing is that I know some people who have had them all of their lives and hate them.
Neither of my sons have them nor do my grandchildren but I was hoping. Maybe they are glad that they don’t: I never quizzed them on this mundane fact. And I never told them about my secret desire to have freckles and would they want to know? Doubtful.  Absurd at this point.

Now I am getting brown spots on my face but trust me, they are not freckles! They are age spots and why couldn’t they be tiny tiny tiny? Doesn’t work that way in life does it? But there is no way I will take my eyebrow pencil and make little brown dots on my face—that would only make things worse. And who wants worse?

If you have freckles, I wish I had them.  We are never happy with what we have are we? And so my olive skin will just remain that along with those “spots:” At least they blend in sort of. But they aren’t freckles!
Sherry Hill

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Sherry Hill
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