Morning reflection

Monday morning, standing in the mirror, putting makeup on. Focusing on my face, everybody says I look younger than I am. Suddenly I notice my hands, doing the same routine as every weekday morning, and I freeze. The routine stops. This is not my hand. Or at least, I don’t recognize it as being mine. It’s very familiar tough, but it’s not mine. Then I start remembering. I am a small child and I am cuddling with my mother. We are lying on the bed, she tries to sleep or pretends to and I am fiddling with her hands, two large hands, veiny and slightly wrinkly with steel-strong nails. How heavy her hands are! How very grown-upy! I am trying to picture her face to see if she looks younger than her age, but I can’t see it. Still, I know she does. I’m about her age now. Then the memory is fading and I’m left there looking at my veiny, slightly wrinkly hands with steel-strong nails and I feel like maybe what kept me younger-looking was my mother all along.

Since I can’t compel you to stay as there are laws against it why don’t you do it on your own? Stick around and read more of my short stories. All of them are amazing. Well, most of them are. OK, honestly, some of them are. Why don’t you decide for yourself? Take a look around –> Here’s a map!

Or, if you’re really adventurous, get off the beaten track and read a random story!