The Mirror at Mom's House

I noticed an odd phenomenon about five years after I moved out of my mother's home. Each time I would return for a visit and happen to walk by a mirror, I was always pleased with my reflection. This was odd because I am never pleased with my reflection in any other mirrors - or any photos taken for that matter.

At first I just thought I looked nice that day. Maybe I wore makeup or had on a nice shirt. It took nearly twenty years, two husbands, three children, and ten houses later to realize that it didn't matter. I could have been working in cut-offs in her garden all day; covered in mud and sweaty. No makeup. My hair not fixed. And I still liked what I looked like in mom's mirror.

That was when I realized what I saw when I looked in mom's mirror was the choices I'd made since leaving home. The temptations I'd bypassed. The principles I lived by. How far I'd gone to improve my life and the life of my children. When I looked in mom's mirror I saw the inner me. And, I like me.

I guess when all is said in done, only at our mother's house do we truly feel judged upon what's on the inside.

It's been nearly four years since the last time I looked in the mirror at mom's house. I miss it.