It's all done with mirrors

My mirror is a mass of photos - babies, holidays, graduations - tucked in the space between frame and glass.

There's an image of one huge milestone - the  first member of our Cuban family to receive a Ph.D. Her hands are not clutching her diploma - the coveted symbol of achievement - instead she stands smiling in cap and gown with long arms spread wide around the shoulders of those she loves. I want to absorb those complex moments where love trumps intellect.

My mirror has years-old mother’s day cards and birthday cards - best mom, best friend, best wife - that I long to re-read. I want to soak up their kindnesses. 

There’s postcards I’ve sent to myself from the places I’ve visited with my hubby. The Broken Spoke, The Angry Trout, and above all let’s keep both Santa Cruz and Austin weird. I want to assimilate the unbridled fun of a local honky-tonk, the broad vastness of Lake Superior, and with genuine faith, accept the wildly unpredictable.

Up at the top of my mirror there are stickers of butterflies that I’m attempting to liberate from their glass coffins. I want to believe that in a parallel reality I’ve broken the milk bottles I once used to collect them, and tenderly kissed them all back to life. I want to affirm all possibilities - including fairy tale resurrections and the breaking of  things without the penalty of bad luck.

The face of my mirror is crowded. There’s barely any room for me to see my reflection. 

Nevertheless, it’s the first thing I look at in the morning, the place where I linger on my way out the door, and the last thing I see before I turn off the lights. And yet the eyes of my mirror never sleep. I want to integrate that watchful witness and reflect it back into the world with understanding and compassion.

These are all the ways I want to see myself as I age like a fine wine. I want to internalize that person’s sense of humor till I believe it’s true. 

It’s either that or completely cover the mirror with 'I love you' notes written in kindergarten script and bask contentedly in their youthful innocence.