mirror, mirror

“That mirror, that’s one I hate to let go, he said. That was my daughter’s the whole time she was growing up. It probably seen her more than me–everything from a baby up to twenty years old. Sometimes I wonder if all that might still be inside it. Got to make an impression on a thing, reflecting the same person every day.”
David Wroblewski, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle


While idly straightening things around the house, more so on countertops to give an impression of organization, I chuckled that this old mirror has been around since Christmas 1958.  I was in third grade.  I vividly recollect opening the gift and finding a beautiful shiny yellow metal mirror with pink brocade paired with a matching hair brush. I kept it on my dresser throughout the remainder of my elementary school days to the end of high school.  I wasn’t particularly attached to it and didn’t give a second thought leaving a kidhood possession behind, when I exited my childhood home.  The mirror sans brush reappeared in 2008, the year my dad died.  Apparently, it still kept its functionality, while sitting on my mother’s dresser.  I wonder if she was too sentimental to discard the old looking glass or perhaps too pinchpenny.  The pink brocade is faded and stained due to the plastic cover ungluing.  I, myself, am unable to toss the lovely ol’ item.  There are too many years of personal history to let go of this, yes still functional, little girl’s mirror.  If and when I get to spring cleaning, it will merely be moved to another place on the counter.

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