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The Mirror

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Contributed by: Shirley Wallace on 1/21/2007

I casually sauntered passed the living room mirror, glanced at it and then jumped in shock. "Who are you?" I asked the reflection, which stared back with an equally surprised expression. Cautiously stepping closer, I suspiciously investigated the person peering back at me. The face seemed vaguely familiar; someone from my past seemed to bounce in and out of focus--a young girl with thick, long, black hair, flawless skin and brilliant blue eyes that were void of any of the dark circles beneath them that this creature sported.

The image in the mirror was somewhat like my grandmother. The white hair seemed appropriate, and there was that distinguishing dimple in the right cheek. However, the eye coloring and shape was not quite right; still, the resemblance caused alarm. Contorting my face into various forms only added to the mystery. Once I saw my grandmother, then my dad and finally a great-grandmother, the one no one had liked--all of whom are no longer here. It suddenly became increasingly clear that the being whose reflection I gazed upon so intently was actually myself. Long-since departed, faces from my past were now all rolled up into one-me! Suddenly, the whole experience took on a new light, acceptance and then satisfaction. I am a beacon for those who exist no more. People whom I still love-well, except for one-are now shining through me. The realization of life's progression that had started out in shock and dismay has resigned itself to a warm feeling of fulfillment-a carrying of the torch, so to speak.

Just as I was enjoying my epiphany, my granddaughter burst into the room, "Hi, Gramzie! What you doing?" Before me stood a lovely young woman with long, black hair, flawless skin and brilliant beaming eyes. She wasn't quite the same person who had tried to break through to my thoughts when first I took note of my transformed reflection, but she is quite similar. With a certain amount of pride I realized I was exactly where I was supposed to be at this moment in time, looks and all.

Time passes at warp speed for me; to my granddaughter, it is sloth in nature. In my acquired wisdom, a slight smile overcomes me accompanied by a touch of sadness. One day my granddaughter, too, will pass a mirror. I wonder if she will catch a glimpse of me?

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