Growing up, I hated my freckles. My detesting of them escalated as I grew older and peaked in early high school. I would plaster my face with makeup and powder. I wanted to have ivory skin like Diana of the Lake of Shining Waters and felt like my freckles were Anne’s equivalent of her red hair. If only my skin was flawless…

And then something happened. Not sure what or when, but I all of a sudden started liking my freckles. I actually encouraged and coaxed them out in the early summer. They seemed charming and lovely at the same time.

As my daughter grows into a little girl, we are discovering freckles appearing on her lovely, creamy, soft skin. We count them, which is a good exercise in counting, but really it is me teaching her in a subtle way to take delight in these little angel kisses. She currently has four on her left arm which she would be happy to show you if you are ever interested in delighting in these little freckles. And there two on her right cheek. Quite wonderful.

Freckles make her happy so far. I am sure as she encounters the western culture of supposed beauty she might change her mind on freckles. But until then I will help her learn to celebrate these wonderful little freckles and we will clap and cheer with every new one that appears.