I was brushing my teeth last night. This is not significant. When I brush my teeth before I go to bed I look at myself in the mirror. Not to be vain. No. I look because this is when I see myself, really take a good look at myself. It is the end of my day, long and spent by now, when I look past the lines around my eyes and mouth, swearing that just yesterday they were not there. I search beyond the skin loosening around my neck and chest. I notice my eyebrows, very grown out. Wasn't I going to make an appointment to get them shaped and waxed like six months ago?
Moon's light filters through the window and bounces off of the mirror back at me. In its shadow I can see myself, deeply. Epidermis, dermis, layer upon layer. I am strong. I am weak. I'm doing an amazing job. I'm failing. This -all of this- is significant.
For some reason I think about a conversation Theo and I had the other day when we were running errands together. In the car he found a candle. He must have pocketed it from his birthday party only to resurface now. He pushes the automatic button and his window goes down, the suction cup on his sunshade making a popping sound that annoys me for some reason. I look in the rear view mirror and see him holding the candle out of the window at a ninety degree angle. I also notice his hair, golden threads whipping around, free. I see his eyes, so blue and clear and free of lines. I see his freckles. He is so handsome. His voice brings me back.
"Hey Mom, you know what I'm doing?"
"Nope. Tell me."
"I'm going to light this candle."
"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that?"
"I'm holding it in the sunlight."
"That's good thinking, bud."
"No... No, Mom. The sunlight is only going to melt it. The sun reflecting off the mirror and bouncing back on the candle is what will light it on fire."
I take one last look in the mirror. I think All is well and it feels a bit chewy.
All is as it should be.