The Other Side of Yesterday

She looked in the mirror, searching for the person she was before another line became etched overnight in the road map of her years. Living proof that at least she was still here, while outside the February morning lay siege to her bathroom window, streams of frost swimming across the pane. Her eyes struggled to recognize the person staring back, to see what was left of herself from the other side of yesterday. A younger version tricked by the onset of too many winters, certain this one would not be any different. A strange reality that she had come to terms with. She remembered what the girl looked like before the women in the mirror betrayed her, but her memories were hard to recall, almost as if she was fading away, barely able to recognize who she was. She shook her head and laughed, then carefully brushed her hair and struggled to erase last night’s lines with the deft application of foundation and blush, transformed for the onslaught of another day. She exhaled, willing her legs to become certain of when she was going to move as she dressed in a tailored business suit. She smoothed out a wrinkle on her jacket sleeve, yet another one she had to hide, then chose a matching purse; some decisions still were easy. Gently she shut the bedroom door, always careful to traverse the highly polished steps down to the first floor, knowing if she fell she would not survive to the other side of tomorrow.