To be honest, I don’t mind wearing a mask. In fact, I celebrate this rare opportunity to hide wrinkles. That no one is easily recognizable or understood when speaking, not only masks seniority but also age-related hearing difficulty. When I look dumbfounded at whatever the grocery clerk just said, he is not so dismissive. He knows he’s mumbling behind his KN95. Now that winter approaches, my mask is warm against a cold wind, even comforting; breath pillows blow out and recede, reminding me I am still alive. Coupled with a scarf, I can be anyone I want to be.