Portrait of the grand usurper
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- January 19, 2025
- 478
I collect painted portraits. There’s something mysterious about hanging a photo of someone you don’t know in your living room. You look at that person every day and memorize the lines in their face. They become family, witness to all that is said and done. They keep your secrets and tears without telling a soul.
I’ve always been intrigued by “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” written by Oscar Wilde. In the story the person in the portrait sells his soul to ensure he won’t age. The picture, however, does age. And if you’re familiar with the story, every transgression he commits is visually recorded there.
No one can escape aging nor reckoning with our own misdoings. It will come for all of us. Every line etched in my face was hard-earned, and it makes me happy to know I have reached this age.
If we painted a portrait of America today, what would we see? I think we’d see tiny dots of people harvesting food from our rich soils and selfless souls fighting and living through wildfires, hurricanes and floods. We’d see bleary pinpoints of light flicker on in the early morning, workers starting their vehicles to head to a 6-3 or 9-5 job.
When my light goes on in the morning, I find myself struggling more than before. I am no longer 35. My body is changing. There are new cares for me.
America is a kaleidoscope of difference: colors, character, poor, rich. We do not exist to be herded like cattle under the whims of those who sell their soul to stay in power or remain ageless. The portrait will age no matter what they or we do. The portrait I see in my own mirror is aging more rapidly than I ever thought.
If the portraits could speak, they would whisper we shouldn’t let money control politics, that the power in this country belongs to the people, not the office. They would follow us around the room with their eyes and warn us of what is to come. They have seen it. They know.
The carefully chosen portraits that hang in my home are telling me to stay creative yet guarded, ready but calm. If I had a portrait of John Snow from “Game of Thrones,” it would be whispering, “Winter is coming.”
For now I am gently examining the skin around my eyes, exfoliating softly and applying vitamin C oil with collagen for moisture. I am moisturizing with a day cream that doesn’t allow my skin to feel like paper. And for those who say, “Be quiet. You’re just an upper middle-aged woman.” Why yes — yes I am.
I’ve earned the wisdom I’ll never lay down. My words aren’t meant for you. My eyes may be slightly wrinkled, but they’re open and will never be painted inside a portrait where I sell my soul to the highest bidder.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.