Everybody gets sheet creases. You know, those lines on your face you see in the mirror right after you get out of bed in the morning. The pillow case folds and wrinkles underneath your facial skin, so you are left with those tell-tale marks. Sheet creases. You know what I’m talking about. Everybody gets them. No use pretending you don’t.
What I didn’t realize is that the older you get, the longer it takes for those sheet creases to relax back into plain-old, ordinary, regular-looking skin.
In your teens, the skin practically pops back out before you finish brushing your teeth.
In your twenties, the skin normally regains its smoothness before you have to be at work or school or wherever you need to go that morning.
In your thirties, forties, maybe even your fifties, the skin boings back eventually. It may take awhile, but you never doubt it’s going to boing back.
But now that I’m in my sixties, there might be a new twist to the story.
Last Sunday morning, Tom was a reader at 8 a.m. church. I got up at my usual 6 a.m. so there was plenty of time to get ready--I thought. What I failed to take into consideration was that this was the morning of the extra-deep, industrial-strength sheet crease. I noticed the Grand Canyon-esque wrinkle slashing across the left side of my face in the mirror while I got ready. But then I forgot about it again as we went to church, came home, and made breakfast.
I ended up back in front of the bathroom mirror again at around 10 a.m. Imagine my dismay when I saw that the pesky sheet crease I had noticed at 6 a.m. was still emblazoned across the side of my face. Like Al Pacino in Scarface. Like Seal. Like Harry Potter’s lightning-shaped blaze. There was my sheet crease for all the world to see.
I figured as long as I’d made it that far into the day (and that everyone around me at church had seen it and knew exactly what it was), I would make lemonade out of my lemons and attempt a personal record. How long could I keep this sheet wrinkle on my face without it popping back out?
I think I set a new record: an eight-hour sheet crease. That would be a personal best. I admit that I purposely was very, very careful not to have my face make sudden movements: no laughing, no crying, no shock, no delight.
Eight hours. I’d like to see any of you young whippersnappers with your youthful elastic skin top that.