The Other Side of Myself

When I look in a mirror, at first all I see is myself. A reflection of the physical “me”. The longer I look the more I begin to really see who is there. The laugh lines at the corner of my eyes and the streaks of silver in my hair. As I stand there, another side of myself begins to show. I see the young girl that I was, running carefree with a white dog at her side. Then the teenager peaks through, with a touch of rebelliousness to her form. I watch more intently and the college graduate I had become lets work start to take over. Demands on time take precedence over the dreams and desires. Then life decides to strike a humbling blow to that young woman. Teach her about her own mortality and fragility. It seems that the mirror clouds over a bit here and reflected back is a marriage gone awry. Touches of sadness seep through the memory of time and etch themselves in my image’s eyes. What should have been an eternal unity is more like a practical joke without a funny punch line. A devastating blow once more dealt by life dampens an emerging happiness. Not wanting to share the pain with anyone, the illusion in the mirror keeps it all to herself. This phantom staring back tends to smile less and show nothing of her true self any longer. To her, there is no point in letting others know what hurts and what doesn’t. They won’t understand the reason behind the actions so there is no use in explaining. Reality shifts back and once more it is just the current “me” standing there with a hairbrush in my hand. I don’t see the past, floating just below the surface, neither do I see any relevant future waiting in the wings. The other side of myself has gone back to where it came from, just memories that I alone treasure.