Originally posted: 9/18/06
I've always known there was nothing but foil or silver back there. I was a rational child. I still wondered, though. I had a feeling about it, like when you see reflections of reflections and you know that no illusion this real could be illusion.
Becky and I imagined stepping through, into a more quiet place. A dark and misty reflection of reality we could have to ourselves. In the mirrored land, there was never sun, there was never movement, only an occasional breeze to sway the purply lush, unidentifiable trees.
It was all ours, and it was beautiful.
But we forget those fancies, as we forget Santa Clauses and Easter Bunnies and sons of God.
Today I touched our mirror, a small, dirty medicine cabinet. I leaned into it and tried to see behind myself. I looked for horror-movie movements, wavery imperfections, Bloody Mary. Nothing there. No, there's still no literal going through the looking glass.
I got into my car. Rain clouds were coming in again. Everything was beautifully dark and misty.
The shop was ridiculously quiet. I only had a single customer, Rebekah. I closed early.
The rain still hadn't started, and the sky hadn't changed. The world was quiet. I turned on the radio, wondering what I could have missed, but the radio was out.
Something wrong, but this was never how I'd pictured disaster. It's too beautiful.
I went home. Where else would I go? No TV here, either. And no one home. Where is the dog?
I heard a TV on somewhere, though. I could see the light of it....
From the bathroom.
I guess we never know.
2 comments:
Hey Jane, thanks so much for your comment and your support! I shall return...!
The language is dense: lots packed into a few words. You know that, of course. I was going to say "You write well" or something vague and trite. What I'm thinking is "I wish I'd written that." Mostly that bit... no, those words, those exactly right words, about the unchanged sky. What tension!
You write good. There. I said it.
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