Seeing My Mother
I avoid looking at myself in photos and mirrors.
As I grew up, the mirror on top of the dresser
greeted me every morning. In an early photo,
I have a gap-toothed grin, my left ear sticks
out from under my riding helmet.
I like myself best in the photo
of me and my horse sailing over the jump,
hands and arms in line with the bit,
heels down, toes forward. The latest picture
shows me hopping over the log,
hands grabbing mane and toes sticking out.
When last at home, waking to a morning
of clearing closets of the clothes
that my mother would no longer wear,
I sat on the edge of my bed,
stared back at myself in that dresser mirror,
lines around the eyes, longish face, left ear sticking out.
These days, I try not to catch myself in the mirror
that came with the house but sometimes catch a glimpse
of my reflection when walking by.
I see myself
becoming my mother.
Unbroken Journal
Dec 2017
