Someone flipped the mirror.
That has to be it.
One day I’m clearly looking at my reflection, studying my skin, noticing wrinkles around my eyes, combing my hair, brushing my teeth. The next day I’m looking at a different world. Not totally different. I recognize the landscape, the room, the people, the events. But I’m an observer, seeing through different eyes, a different lens. Seeing through a two-way mirror. Someone flipped the mirror. Me and my has disappeared, and familiar, unfamiliar stories are playing out.
What I knew to be true is not quite. My version. Through my eyes, my heart, my gut. But mine, nevertheless. All those remembrances have grown new facets. This thing I knew to be true grew wings and flew away. This event set in concrete washed away in a tsunami. This person I had pegged to fit in this box turned out to be a shape-shifter, outgrew the box.
But most of all,
Those things I regretted, I resented, I blamed…
Those things that broke my heart, my pride, brought me to my knees…
Someone flipped the mirror and I saw something more.
So many things I didn’t see as gifts
until I looked back with wiser eyes.
