Mother's Face in the Mirror

Stumbling out of bed at the crack of dawn, I sleepily find my way into the bathroom. Flicking on the vanity light, I am startled as a newborn babe waken violently from a sound sleep to see my mother looking back at me! Awake now at that revelation I splash my face with cool water and smooth back my tossled hair. Seeing my usual reflection in the mirror I am still taken aback at the similarities noticed in that moment of twilight vision.

"Stepping from the bathroom I go in search of a strong cup of coffee, following its smell to the kitchen. Thankful for the maker's automatic timer, I pour my first cup of the morning." The early morning hours offer time for early meditation and planning. This morning however, my thoughts are interupted by the quiet creaking in the hallway. Nana, my 93 year old grandmother is awake and moving as slowly as a turtle crossing the road towards the kitchen. She hesitantly pushes her walker ahead of her pausing now and again to get her bearings and catch her breath. Thin gray hair, thick glasses and rounded shoulders at this time in the morning her guard is down and she looks more frail than usual. Even in the early morning humidity that promises another day of stiffling August heat she has about her shoulders a well worn sweater and complains how chilly it is this early in the day.

I've shared her home for a little over a month now and today I've begun to notice the similarities in mannerisms and routines we share. It seems along with my mother's looks I've inherited my grandmother's love of the early morning hours to read and meditate on the day ahead. For Nana it is also a time of remembering somewhat sadly the early mornings in past days that she used to spend in her garden planting, weeding, and pruning before the heat of the day sent her inside to household chores.

Here I am today at age 50 having seen my mother's 68 year old face reflecting back at me in this mornings mirror. Across the table at this very moment I catch a glimpse of myself at 93 should I be blessed to stay on this earth that much longer.
What will the years ahead bring?

I have a choice to look to the future with fear or renewed focus. I've heard my mother speak of the things she regrets, the opportunities lost after as she went about the expected tasks of raising a family. Nana gives voice daily to the simple things she misses such as seeing the birds at her feeders or being able to read a good book through at a single sitting.

I was surprised this morning by the unexpected glimpse in the bathroom mirror of what my future may look like. Now sharing a cup of coffee and some early morning reflecting with my grandmother, I realise I am also blessed to be able to glimpse the future in time to actively go after the dreams and hopes I have for my life. Just think, it didn't take a crystal ball, but simply my mother's face in the mirror!

* * In the two years since first writing this, I have remained living with my grandmother and watching her struggle to maintain a grasp on the life that is fading away almost on a daily basis now. Grey-blue eyes cloud over as she sits gazing unseeing into space and deafness engulfs her in an increasingly muffled world where only her thoughts of the past and uncertain future echo in her mind. Daily conversation ranges from sad to homorous as words are unheard or mis-understood when she catches only a brief bit of the questions asked of her, yet I find it hard to image the day when she is gone.

For better or worst, in sickness and in health till death do us part seems to fit in a multi-generational family as well as a marriage vow. It is true, we can pick our friends but not our family. We can't choose our mothers or our grandmothers and we have no say in the way we were raised growing up. For better or worst their choices in life have influenced who I am and who I have yet to become.

My hair has even more grey in it these days and I bear an undeniable resemblance to both my mother and grandmother. As an adult-child caught in the middle of caring for my grandmother as well as my mother who battles declining health of her own, I continue to struggle with who I will be 'when I grow up'. Of this I am certain, the traits of strength, determination, and sheer grit I see in both my mother and grandmother, will give me the strength to journey ahead and create a heritage for my daughter and grandchildren as Mom and Nana have done for me. For this I will always be greatful!