The Man In the Mirror

I looked into the mirror today and was surprised to see an old man looking back at me. It seems like it was only yesterday that the man in the mirror was searching through his full head of thick black hair for that one strand his wife said was turning gray. And, wasn’t it only last week that the mirror reflected the image of a young man trying to see how noticeable the pimples were on his face before going out on his date? It seems like only a month ago that the mirror displayed the sight of a boy looking very closely for signs of a whisker on a smooth face where there were none to be found. And, it couldn’t have been any more than a year ago that the mirror held the image of a small child adjusting the baseball cap on his head to fit just like the one worn by his favorite baseball star. “What have you done with the faces of all those boys, teenagers, and young men that used to look back at me”, I asked the old man. “I have done nothing with those faces”, replied the stranger in the mirror. “You make the mistake of expecting to see those faces on the surface of your own. Those faces are still there, they are just reflected on different mediums.” “The face of the small child in a baseball cap can be seen when you play a game of catch with your grandson and the new baseball glove you gave him for his birthday. The face of the boy looking for the first signs of a mustache and worrying about the blemishes on his face comes out when you tease your nephews who are just now becoming interested in girls. And the image of that man canvassing his scalp to remove any signs of a gray hair is apparent when you give advice to your grown children as they struggle with new careers, new spouses, young children and the stresses that accompany these changes that will also contribute to the graying of their hair. It is all those faces, compiled into one that looks back upon you now.” “Thank you”, I say to this wise old man. “That makes me feel much better knowing that those faces are still there. And you are right; I do feel as if I display those faces at those moments in time. I guess I just need to stop walking past mirrors and worrying about who looks back at me.” I walk away from the mirror, instinctively knowing that the reflection remains, smiling at me, shaking his head and saying, “He’s such a kid.”