My Mirrors

My Mirrors 

by Nicki Kassolis Herdson 

I am surrounded by mirrors. The bathroom mirror greets my weary eyes each morning. Zoom meetings have given me new mirrors to gauge how I look when I talk and how often I play with my hair. 

My young daughter is my mirror, too. She knows instantly that my head aches when I touch my brow. She can sense anxiety or anger by the tone of my voice, its cadence, the way I speak slowly when I am not happy. If I make a sarcastic or biting remark, she picks up on it and asks me what it means.

She mirrors my emotions too, trying them on and making them her own. When I am happy, the joy transfers to her small frame and comes out in rolling giggles that cannot stop. When I am worried, the uncomfortable moves from my arms to hers, and she too cannot settle in her soul. I tell her to breathe, to calm, to get out of her head. In reality, I am saying these things to myself.

My physical reflections in the bathroom and on the computer screen give me the superficial – the face I offer to others. My daughter is my emotional reflection; the mirror she shines begs for a deeper dive into my soul. Like the bags under my eyes that greet me in the morning, this mirror does not always show me what I want to see. It shows me what I need to see. In this mirror, I see how worry multiplies, sometimes at a crippling rate. I see how small comments, sarcastic or not, are simply mean. I see how anger lives in my face, my voice, my body. 

There are mirrors all around me. They copy and mimic. They reflect my face. My daughter is the mirror into my soul, and I choose the reflection I give her. I want her to reflect my joy, my smile, my love. I want the uncontrollable giggles.