Mirror

She went home after the funeral, not sure what to feel. She paced in her room, back and forth, between her bed and her dresser, lost in thought.

This was a hard thing to move on from, even if she hadn’t known him well. It seemed harder because she wasn’t sure they’d have liked each other even if they’d had the time.

He’d been younger than her, and it pushed her to a mirror. It forced her to look. If he could die in some stupid accident then she could too. Tomorrow, or the next day. It meant that no one was safe.

The mirror that she was forced to confront held her life. Every decision was reflected and fragmented into possibilities and failures. Hiding from this mirror had been her life’s work. Looking was no less terrifying than it had ever been but it had become necessary.

She looked at all of her mistakes and at all of her misplaced anger. Last of all she looked at all of those poisonous regrets. “You don’t scare me.” she claimed. It didn’t sound true. She needed to make it true.

So, she delved into the mirror. She pushed aside everything that hurt. She exposed the joy and beauty and love that had always existed but was always buried beneath the anger. She lanced the pain and let it bleed out in front of her. “You think this is all I am?” she screamed and watched it all it all drain away.

She fell to her knees and hid her face in her hands, still hiding from the light. She gathered up the shreds of courage that she had left. She looked up.“You don’t scare me.” she said. This time it felt true.