I was going to wash my makeup off tonight before sleep. Dab a sheet with olive oil maybe and wipe it under my eyes. (That’s best for your eyes, I’ve heard.)
But I didn’t. Instead, I played some music, reread old writing a hundred times, ate some crackers, thought of my old teachers.
Then, as I flipped through a recent photo album on my laptop, I peered up, beyond the screen. There was my reflection.
I noticed a little frown. Brown locks framed my face. My lip tilted upward. My face has shapes. My jaws are more defined than last time I saw. My eyes are big, especially when they well up.
It might be because it’s blurry, and I can’t see clearly, that I perceive them this way. Or it may be that they really are big, those windows to the soul, big, earnest, slow-blinking, taking in everything that comes upon them.
I never knew there was a way more natural to cleanse mascara off than olive oil.