Mirror’s eye

I woke up this morning, like every morning before, and just lay there pondering what the coming day will bring.  Will this be my lucky day, and I win the Lotto? No I don’t think so. See I don’t play the tickets. Peanut my overfed, bushy-tailed fat tabby stares at me from his daily place, sitting in the middle of my chest, demanding that I move my buns and get his bowl filled or else…  I’ll tell ya someday I will choose the or else just to see what the hell he means. He and I have been partners for a long time but sometimes he pushes his luck to be sure.  For the moment though I relent and remove myself from my warm nest and proceed to take care of the daily morning routine that has been my life for quite a spell.

So once the tiger is settled and I have my hot coffee at hand, I stand before the big picture window in my living room and spend a few minutes watching the early morning light slowly change its hues from dark and dreary to light grey and dreary threatening a good drench. An older man appears walking his dog, looks more like the dog is walking him really and plods along never looking anywhere other than at his feet. After a few minutes, he glances in my direction and I raise my cup in greeting, while in my head I am smiling and glad that he is the one out there being pulled by a dog, and I am inside drinking a cup.

Since I have a few things to do I for the day I make my way to shower and shave.  You know got to get looking for the fine ladies in town. I find myself standing in front of the mirror. I see the same old face that I have seen for years. Dirty brownish greying hair with a greyish beard not quite white but getting there quick, too quick really. I reach down to check the running water to see if it’s temp is warm enough and reach for my old spice shaving cream, love that stuff, and look back at my mirror. Then for some unknown reason I slowly come to the thought that the face staring back at me is not me. In my mind’s eye the reflected image slowly begins to reshape itself. I pick up my cream and apply it to my face and the scent lightly comes to my nose.  I begin to shave as I have so many times in my life, but my thoughts are floating backward in time.  I can hear the chatter and banter of my old comrades while we were in basic training so many years ago.  I began to feel the humid air of the shower/latrine against my skin and in the steamy mirror I could vaguely make out friends that were far in the past. Then I realized that I was looking at my own face. Gone were the etched lines and wind burned cheeks. My eyes were once again bright and vibrant as they had been when I was just 16. Gone were the loose folds that had formed under my chin. Stepping back from the slowly clearing mirror I saw a younger me ramrod straight in my spotless white uniform with its knife-edge creases.

I never fully understood long I stood there but somehow I had finished shaving and looking back at me was the same old me with a freshly shaved face.  Etched lines, loose folds, and slightly greying hair and eyes that reflected the wear and tear of life today. And with a smile and a happy heart…

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