Every morning she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She'd look in the mirror as she combed her hair. Her hair was getting long, reaching her lower back. She had hints of grey that blended in. She would stare in the mirror a little longer examining her freckles and her wide brown eyes. Yes she had freckles! No one knew. Her light brown skin tone hid freckles near her nose.
One morning she noticed her hair was thinning and her smile was fading. Her cheek bones were a little too exposed for her liking. The mirrors reflection was not hers. She avoided the mirror as much as she could. Why have this mirror she thought betrayed her? She had a small hope to find her true self. So she kept this mirror.
I'd catch her nod her head sometimes as if she were disappointed. She caressed her own face and gave out a sigh. I wondered what was going through her mind. She was beautiful. How could she find any flaws. She'd nudge for my help as this daily simple routine was becoming a difficult task for her. So I let her hold my arm as I guided her back to her bed.
Month's passed and she continued to visit this mirror. She called out for me but asked for her walker. She didn't want my arm and I wasn't offended, in fact I was silently cheering for her. Her weakness actually gave her strength. Ironic right? When she looked in the mirror she noticed how fragile she became. Her collar bone was so distinctive. Her clothes were small yet so baggy on her. She even practiced her smile. She'd blow her strands of hair out of her face and didn't even bother to comb it. She'd turn around and look at me and blurt out a random giggle. She thought the mirror was funny.
I put her walker next to her bedroom door, moved my bed close to hers and laid there waiting for her to ask me to visit the mirror. She never skipped a day. I admit I enjoyed watching her observe herself. Some days I'd cry and look away and some days I'd give her a high five and pump her up. It was a weird bond we formed with this mirror. It seemed to be the only thing that never lied. We needed reality to get us through so we cherished this mirror.
Her days became shorter. Most of it was consumed with sleep to rid her pain. She started to show aggression more. Her thoughts became negative and her words pierced my heart when she yelled. I'd ask her if she wanted to visit the mirror and instead she wanted me to be her mirror. I couldn't handle the pressure. After all she was angry, bitter and short tempered. I always thought she was beautiful. But was there a way I could make her feel beautiful? Cancer crept up on her and stole her confidence, her laugh, smile and soul. I played her favorite music, hung up inspirational photos and quotes, surrounded her room with memorabilias and hung her large church hats that hid in her closet. I prayed with her, I danced with her. I sang songs I didn't even know the words to but pretended to so she'd hear my voice. I prayed This was my mirror for her.
One morning she noticed her hair was thinning and her smile was fading. Her cheek bones were a little too exposed for her liking. The mirrors reflection was not hers. She avoided the mirror as much as she could. Why have this mirror she thought betrayed her? She had a small hope to find her true self. So she kept this mirror.
I'd catch her nod her head sometimes as if she were disappointed. She caressed her own face and gave out a sigh. I wondered what was going through her mind. She was beautiful. How could she find any flaws. She'd nudge for my help as this daily simple routine was becoming a difficult task for her. So I let her hold my arm as I guided her back to her bed.
Month's passed and she continued to visit this mirror. She called out for me but asked for her walker. She didn't want my arm and I wasn't offended, in fact I was silently cheering for her. Her weakness actually gave her strength. Ironic right? When she looked in the mirror she noticed how fragile she became. Her collar bone was so distinctive. Her clothes were small yet so baggy on her. She even practiced her smile. She'd blow her strands of hair out of her face and didn't even bother to comb it. She'd turn around and look at me and blurt out a random giggle. She thought the mirror was funny.
I put her walker next to her bedroom door, moved my bed close to hers and laid there waiting for her to ask me to visit the mirror. She never skipped a day. I admit I enjoyed watching her observe herself. Some days I'd cry and look away and some days I'd give her a high five and pump her up. It was a weird bond we formed with this mirror. It seemed to be the only thing that never lied. We needed reality to get us through so we cherished this mirror.
Her days became shorter. Most of it was consumed with sleep to rid her pain. She started to show aggression more. Her thoughts became negative and her words pierced my heart when she yelled. I'd ask her if she wanted to visit the mirror and instead she wanted me to be her mirror. I couldn't handle the pressure. After all she was angry, bitter and short tempered. I always thought she was beautiful. But was there a way I could make her feel beautiful? Cancer crept up on her and stole her confidence, her laugh, smile and soul. I played her favorite music, hung up inspirational photos and quotes, surrounded her room with memorabilias and hung her large church hats that hid in her closet. I prayed with her, I danced with her. I sang songs I didn't even know the words to but pretended to so she'd hear my voice. I prayed This was my mirror for her.
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