My 69-Year-Old Mom Got Surgery for Her Birthday – When She Came Home, Dad Had Removed Every Mirror from Their Bedroom
Dad nodded.
“Together.”
“Together. And with all available mirrors.”
He laughed.
That evening, Dad disappeared into the garage.
He returned carrying the full-length mirror.
Then he rehung the dresser mirror.
Finally, he brought Mom the little vanity mirror.
He didn’t put it down.
“Where do you want this one?”
Mom looked at him.
“Back where it was.”
Dad placed it on the dresser.
Beside it, Mom put the photograph of her mother.
She didn’t return it to the shoebox.
Several weeks later, I stopped by and found Mom standing in front of the dresser mirror.
Her swelling had gone down considerably.
She was still healing, and she wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, but she looked more like herself.
She rolled her shoulders backward, then forward.
“How’s the back?” I asked.
She smiled at me through the mirror.
“Better.”
Dad appeared in the doorway.
For once, he didn’t say, “You’re perfect the way you are.”
He didn’t tell her she looked beautiful.
He didn’t tell her what she should see.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Mom considered her reflection.
“Like I’m 70.”
Dad laughed.
She smiled.
“And like I finally did something good for myself.”
Beside her reflection stood the little vanity mirror and the old photograph.
