Reflections in My Bathroom Mirror

From iStock Photo

This morning, as we prepared for our morning walk to school, I stood side-by-side with my daughter at our bathroom vanity. She fiddled with her hair, brushed her teeth and applied (with some need for re-work) her mascara. There she was, unaware of the scrutiny from my side-ways gaze and completely un-self-conscious. I was struck. The mirror reflection that I saw—not the one directly in front of me, but the one two feet to my right—was of a ghost from days gone by. There I stood, a young girl replete with newness, fresh and un-jaded, innocent of what lay in wait: challenges to be conquered, dreams to come true and expectations left unfulfilled.

In an instant decades long, I saw it all: Her future, my past, our present life together. The face of the young woman she will be, vaguely veiled behind the features of the child slipping away. I suddenly longed for the days of bed-time stories, bath-time frolics and hand-holding as we crossed the street. Approaching her thirteenth birthday, she reads herself to sleep, would rather die than have me anywhere near her bath and has crossed the street on her own for quite some time, thank you very much.

An inexplicable sense of kinship with her one-time favourite sippy-cup, her pinkish-purplish-sparkly Mickey and Minnie Mouse cup, swelled from within. Her Mickey Mouse Cup With the Lid, the moniker she ascribed, has sat dutifully at her bed-side every night from the time she was two until just after she turned ten, an essential element of comfort in her multi-faceted night-time ritual. Sadly, Mickey has since been relegated to the deepest, darkest depths of our kitchen cupboard, ostracized and tarnished with neglect, replaced by something far more grown up. I fear that I, too, will soon go the way of Mickey. Friends and boys and an independent life that requires much less of me than I care to admit are rearing their ugly heads. Our morning walks to school are numbered.

I was 28 years old when she was born. With nary a grey hair nor a wrinkle in sight, I was once married, never divorced and completely unaware of the path that would unfold in front of me. I was her, standing in front of a mirror with nothing more to assess than my hairstyle for the day. I am so proud of the woman she is becoming, of the person she continually chooses to be, but, before she slips too far away, and before her eyes are opened to realities of life both good and bad, I hope she crawls into my lap, one last time, for one last cuddle.

5 Comments to “Reflections in My Bathroom Mirror”

  1. Hi, just finished reading several of your posts – I have two little girls (under 4 years old) so you are giving me a peek into what is to come. I can’t wait to see what my girls are like as teens, adults, moms, etc so this post was a great reminder to enjoy each moment. Thank you.

    • Thanks very much for stopping by. I will be sure to visit your site as well. It is true…the years fly by much faster than you think. My next post will be about my daughter starting high school. Yikes! It is amazing to watch our children grow and become unique and individual, but oh my, there is nostalgia for the younger years. Enjoy your little ones. :)

  2. its posts like this that makes me come back for more :)

  3. Hello Sasa,

    Thank you so much for taking the time to submit your comment. I, like you, used to be not much for commenting on web sites, so I know where you are coming from. I appreciate that you stepped outside of the box for me.

    Christie

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