My face is filled with visible damage and wrinkles. And I love every single one. Some days I feel like I remember earning each and every one. Lots of days I feel like I should have a million more.
Family. Friends. Pets. Neighbors. Coworkers. Retail clerks. Servers at restaurants. You name it.
Maybe, like the Japanese filling in cracks with gold, this is why these are called our Golden Years?