It was 4 AM when I awoke. The ink of night shadowing any detail as I glanced out the window, even the moon and stars had been stained by the darkness. I stood and felt the ache, discomfort, and wretchedness from too many years of injustice upon my body. This is a sensation that I had become apathetic to whenever I would wake. Pain is relative. If I choose to allow this level of discomfort to overwhelm my mind, and masquerade as pain, then I deserve to experience it as such. I have little room in my life for self-pity. I choose to perceive such perceptions as a reminder of the intensity of my younger days.
I start to trek to the bathroom with the balance of a toddler’s first steps. Quickly I train my body to find my personal tipping point and quickly regain my years of control. The light is on as I enter and I shield my eyes until I can force them to adjust. I relieve myself and cross to the sink to wash my hands like my mother had so patiently trained me so many decades ago.
As I wash myself my eyes drift to the face looking at me from the mirror. At first I think that someone has played a cruel trick on me. The moment I saw the reflection I was confused. I did not see the man of youthfulness I envisioned myself to be. It was as if the bathroom mirror was replaced with a warped reflection of a cruel reality I likened to a funhouse mirror. I looked at the funny old man in the mirror as the caverns of my mind begin to fill with a distorted sound of a defective midway calliope. The warped, invective sound was reverberating from the mental canyons of past memories. Slowly I pulled myself back from the drowning echoes of what I hope is a dream. I laugh at myself as I find that this is reality and I have grown wise but wrinkled from the forced march called life.
The man in the mirror makes faces at me as if taunting me for the years of physical disrespect I have shown him. The reflection asking me “are you laughing now?” Was the joke on me? What would happen to me if I was suddenly to reverse the years to try an alternate reality? What would the reflection look like then? Would that face show happiness, love, and the thoughtfulness of a sage? Would this alternate reality even be a life anything like the present?
I turn and shut off the light, sending the man in the mirror into obsidian darkness, and I laughingly ask the man in the mirror, “How do you like me now?”
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
A way to use your mind for silent communication. Speaking about the methods in the book I have used since a young age.
21st Century learning. I also have a GoFundMe page to ask for funds so I can research with other people and add their experiences
