Flight
Today in the mirror, I saw my father’s face. Dad had blue eyes while mine are green, but still he appeared in my reflection at 9 am to return my gaze. I’ve always thought I looked more like my mother despite being a proud Swede like Dad, but this morning I couldn’t dismiss the similarities in our faces while his image melted into mine like a Dali apparition that had sprung from my subconscious. There I was in the locker room, freshly showered and half naked in front of the mirror, my gym bag, and a hair dryer used by countless other women trying to stay fit or happy, and there he was -- sort of -- c learly attempting to share something. This had never happened to me. It was weird. Strange. Cult-like, not me-like (see post #1). I don’t understand why it occurred; I don’t know why most things happen the way they do. I’m not a big believer in destiny or the almighty and am not even an enthusiastic member of the everything-happens-for-a-reason crowd. But I do believe moments like the...