Tonight I had a very strange experience. I honestly am not sure how to describe it.
Mike had just gone upstairs to go to bed after trying to watch a very odd-looking movie, and I went to the bottom of the stairs to ask him a question.
We have random mirrors up throughout our house. Not fancy ones or particularly interesting ones, with the exception of the round one that was a wedding gift from close family friends, but in this particular house has not really found a home on any wall.
So while standing at the bottom of the stairs, I happened to look to my right at the cheap mirror that I had bought at Walmart several years ago to hang by the front door of our second house. I don’t know what it was, but I just kept looking at myself.
I will admit that I can be vain, but I have never been “stare-at-myself-in-the-mirror” vain.
I really can’t describe the weird feeling of peace that I felt. I searched my face in my reflection for something. I don’t know what, but looking at myself tonight, I felt a strange sense of peace. It was almost like my inner voice said, “Aha! There you are!”
I didn’t have any bright or startling revelations, but I couldn’t seem to form any of the usual thoughts I have when I inspect myself in the mirror as we all do from time to time. I didn’t see that my cheeks are perhaps more rounded than I want them to be, and I didn’t see that I am in desperate need of an eyebrow waxing. I didn’t see what I think of as my “hooded” eyes, or my pale skin. I didn’t see my desperately-needs-a-cut-and-style hairdo.
I just saw…me. And for some reason, it was very hard to turn away. It was almost like I was trying to memorize the person being reflected back at me, as if I might never see her again.
All in all, it was just strange. But I was at peace.
I eventually clicked into myself again, and words to write this posting started flooding into my head. My phone was within reach, so I tried to take a picture of this serene moment to help me remember it later. Of course the pictures on a cell phone are nowhere near as good as ones taken with a real camera…held and controlled by another person, but it was all I had handy.
Someone told me once that I’m a “Mona Lisa smiler”. Whenever I think I’m smiling a little curious smile, it tends to look almost like a small frown, or maybe just a plain old poker face. They said that when I smile, I look like I know something, but don’t want to let on that I know something. I don’t think I really understand what they meant until now. Over the years I’ve learned to exaggerate my smile for photos, but tonight, it just didn’t seem appropriate, less honest somehow.