Welcome back to Member Monday. It’s a pleasure to welcome Jennifer Phelps back to share another one of her pieces.
More things of Mom’s keep finding their way into my home. Just the other day, Dad brought me some odds and ends of hers, including her old stapler. Apparently, it was something she had before they were married. Dad loves staplers, so either he was being quite unselfish by passing it on to me, or he feels that he has entirely too much stuff since Mom died and he consolidated two households.
Another item he didn’t have room for, or didn’t want, was her full-length mirror.
“Do you want that mirror?” he asked when he called.
You bet I want it. I knew exactly which mirror he meant. Mom always spoke of wanting a full-length mirror, and she finally ordered this one from Pottery Barn. I’m glad she got to have it…one small dream realized in a lifetime far too short to grant all her wishes. But aren’t all lifetimes too short for that?
“Where will it go?” my husband worried. After eight months of assimilating countless books, an impressive array of heirloom furniture pieces, and an extensive collection of decorative throw pillows, it was a fair question. The mirror is tall and rectangular with an espresso-colored wood frame: simple, modern, elegant, and timeless. (Do you think Pottery Barn should hire me to write copy for their catalog?) And it is large.
“In the corner, I guess,” I replied.
The mirror was placed in the corner, where it stands, working its magic. I love mirrors. They add depth, light, and mystery to a room. They show us new angles of ourselves, but they are also enigmatic by nature. Somehow, they seem to represent an answer and a question, all at the same time. In this way, mirrors both frighten and reassure me. There I am, but then again, there I am not.
As I look in this mirror, I imagine Mom standing before it, elegant and willowy, giving herself a sharp, appraising look. Now that it is in my house, I shuffle past it wearing the new fleece monkey pajamas I received as a Christmas gift. The beveled glass has been anointed with dog slobber. My elegance, I suppose, is more subtle than hers.
Still, I’m glad the mirror is here.
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