Ebook: 365 writing prompts: July 5 Mirror Mirror
I stood with coffee in hand, and reached for a picture. I studied an image of myself. A few wisps of dark hair were twisted into a curl at the top of my head, fat gathered like bracelets around my wrists, fat, sturdy legs and chubby cheeks. I was sitting up unaided.
“I must have been about nine months …” I said to no one. “This was probably the first photo taken of me.”
I tried to relate this image to the person I see in the mirror now.
My thick, grey hair is cropped short in an effort to control the natural curl and tendency to frizz in humid weather. My full eyebrows can be unruly as they also tend to curl, like my father’s. Crow’s feet have been etched around my eyes, a permanent scowl line has settled between my eyebrows from squinting in the sun of many summers and at the print on the page that continues to get smaller and smaller. The fold lines running from my nose to my mouth are testament to the general sag that is creeping to all parts of my body. It is not the face in the black and white image I hold in my hand; neither is it the face I think I should be looking at, that of me as a thirty-something. It was sometime around then that the speed of time and bad decisions fractured my life. Where were all the in betweens?