I have two freckle memories that stand out to me.
1. My 2nd grader teacher told us that the freckles you had showed the number of times the angels kissed you in Heaven. Each freckle equaled one angel kiss. I loved them then, but
oh, kids tease and I hated them shortly after.
2. I told my grandma that I wished they made a special cream to remove freckles. My usually mild (but don't get me wrong, still spitfire) grandma was horrified and told me that they made me ME, that they were beautiful.
She's right. I love them. I love them so much.
They fade in the winter, but at the first kiss of summer sun, they return, a smattering across my cheeks and nose, just right from all those angel kisses.
I love this photo not just because the most awesome photographer in the world captured the most beautiful moment in the world, but also because she captured my freckles, telling the world that this was a summer whose mama received a whole lot of angel kisses (no freckles for him yet, but something tells me the angels kissed him a lot, too).
My freckles are my beauty this week. What's yours?