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My maternal grandmother lived into her eighties, her last months bed-bound in a nursing home. Up until the end, she cared about her appearance and insisted on having her hair and makeup done regularly. I couldn’t imagine what comfort she found in the mirror’s reflection of sparse hair and time-eroded skin and features.
Twenty years later, the realtime image I perceive in my own mirror appears decades younger than the person staring back from a still photo snapped moments before. The fixed, permanent self is an illusion. It feels like I’m killing time, but time is killing me.
BLACKOUT PRAYER
Bare trees. Sunlight fading. Snow falling.
The power’s been out for hours now. The slain sounds of the modern world arise like ghosts, manifesting in the empty space they’ve left behind.
I’m haunted in the still silence by myriad gifts that are almost invisible in their ever-presence. My family’s love. My body’s health. My clear mind. The countless comforts of our First World prosperity.
What a waste … what a shame … to only appreciate the bounty of life in needful retrospect.
May we be fully present within our lives. May we savor the grace of each moment in conscious awareness.
( Written after last Sunday’s 12” snowstorm and 8 hour power failure. Entry in this week’s 100 Word Stories Challenge. Prompts: “Falling” and “Normal.”)
