Nose Mirror
Unavoidable, invited.
Rough clay frame, one small round eye of glass,
not smooth, sometimes hidden in the hallway’s shadows.
She hung it in the hallway,
not the bathroom, not the closet,
a place everyone walked through,
waiting to be seen.
I saw it
every morning and night.
Sometimes I would pause
to take a longer look at this odd mirror,
searching for the whole of myself,
finding only parts.
An entire reflection broken,
with a turn of the head,
an eye, a nose, an ear.
She called it the nose mirror,
amused by pieces of a face,
where everyone else had a whole.
Catching my mom’s attention mid-stride,
a glance and a chuckle perhaps,
reminding her of the moment
she decided it needed to come home.
I won’t know exactly why
she bought that mirror,
put it in the hallway,
whether she was comfortable with parts
or found something whole in them
that I’m still searching for.
Now, it is in mine,
waiting for a glance,
that moment when I pause.