🧡 Freckles and Wrinkles

It was a sunny Saturday, perfect for the zoo. Margaret held her grandson’s hand as they wandered from one animal exhibit to the next. Owen was six, wide-eyed, full of questions, and freckled from nose to ears. His face looked like it had been dusted with cinnamon.

Near the snack stand, a face-painting booth was set up. A young artist painted tiger paws and butterflies on kids in line. Owen tugged on his grandmother’s sleeve, pointing. "Can I get one too?"

They joined the queue. Owen bounced on his toes, excited. That’s when a girl in front turned around, stared at him, and said, loud enough for others to hear,

“You’ve got too many freckles. There’s no room left to paint!”

Owen’s smile disappeared. He looked down at his shoes, silent.

Margaret knelt beside him, steadying her voice. “Hey,” she said gently, lifting his chin. “You know what? When I was your age, I wanted freckles so badly I tried to draw them on with a brown marker.”

He looked up, surprised.

“They’re special,” she said. “They make your face look like it's been kissed by the sun.”

“Really?” he asked, unsure.

She smiled. “Really. Freckles are beautiful.”

He studied her face for a moment, then leaned in close, whispering:

“But I think your wrinkles are even better.”

Margaret blinked, caught off guard. Then she laughed—a full laugh that crinkled every line on her face. She hugged him tight.

And just like that, neither of them cared about face paint anymore.

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Out Of The Box May 07, 2025