I sit here, before it, wondering…

At first I thought it might be dirty. That could not be. That should not be. I clean every square inch of this house myself. An immaculate home and hearth are a woman’s pride.

I did not see it in the morning, but I dared not dwell. There were meals to be cooked, boys to be dressed, school runs to be made…

If I had the time to comb my hair then perhaps I might have wondered earlier, but who has time for vanity. Like he says, I’m just a store keeper, not the window dressing.

And now that the day is done I sit here wondering…

Why can I not see my reflection in the mirror? Has the light faded, or have I ceased to exist?


In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge based on a photo prompt by Nathan Sowers

11 thoughts on “The Mirror

  1. Dear Sheena,

    I take her not being able to see her reflection as metaphorical. In that situation she’s given so much of herself she feels like a non-person. Beautifully crafted story.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Like

    1. It’s a mistake we make sometimes, immersing ourselves in taking care of the needs of others, without taking care of ourselves. But like they advise in emergencies, first put the oxygen mask on yourself and then take care of others.

      Liked by 1 person

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