As I stared in the mirror with Mandela's funeral providing the soundtrack to my thoughts in the other room, I thought about what it must feel like to view and be viewed in such an amazing light. I thought about how I'd like to viewed. Staring in the mirror as the tears continued to flow, I thought about the day ahead. I thought about having to possibly shovel yet again in spite of the promise I made to myself years ago to find a man who would take the reigns and allow me to be the woman, wife and mom that I always wanted to be...including to never shovel snow again. My thoughts ran the gamut from pure insanity to spiritual enlightenment. Focusing on my eyes, and the quiver of my lips as the tears kept up a steady pace I thought about how much love I have for those in my life and if they truly know it. I thought about why it mattered to me that they know. As I reflected this morning in my bathroom across from the mirror, I thought about the true relationships within my family between my aunt, my mom and my uncles. I thought about the hurt, the animosity, the love and the bonds. Staring in the mirror and allowing myself to go places I don't always enjoy yet afterwards provides a level of comfort and clarity that I always clamor for, I noticed the tears begin to dry up again and a smile quietly and slowly form.
I can't wait until that moment I feel the need to stare in the mirror again.....