Upon Reflection

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?” The mirror answered as he always did “You are dear Queen,”

Susan was walking through a department store.  She had Jim in the pusher. It was so cold there, she was glad of her blue parka; what happened to the heating? Suddenly, without warning she saw her mother, wearing an identical blue parka approach her with a pusher.  “Hi Mum.” but the words froze on her lips. Looking around her, she was relieved that no one was watching; for it was her own reflection in a mirror that she saw, and of course, it was Jim’s reflection too. She cried out in anguish. Wide awake now with George beside her, she realised she had been having that recurring dream.  It always left her devastated, it always woke George too. 

“This can’t go on Sue.” he said sleepily “you might need some grief counselling.”

“Oh, bugger off,” she replied crossly.

She went back to sleep and upon waking she noticed that George had indeed buggered off.  The clock in the hall struck seven. Reluctantly Susan, often called Sue, got up and prepared for the day, in a reflective mood.

Putting the finishing touches to her toilette, she looked at her reflection, a brief smile upon her lips. If the bathroom mirror spoke as the fabled mirror in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs did, it would not be honest in saying “You are dear Sue.”, at least not today.  Her eyes were still a vivid blue, almost green if anger overtook her.  Her hair once blonde and healthy, now had streaks of grey and reminded her of the dolly cut, once favoured in the late sixties and early seventies, which she was never allowed because her mother hated it.  On reflection, Sue realised why and she agreed belatedly with her mother that it looked straggly and unkempt, particularly now, when non-essential businesses were closed.  Isn’t looking one’s best essential?  Apparently not.  Yes, she had a dolly cut look-alike hairdo and hated it; for it was a reflection of the disorganisation of lockdown and pandemic fears. She like so many others, was over the do’s and don’ts, wanting her life such as it had been, back.

In the last year, she had gone nowhere special, done nothing spectacular, for fear of being caught red-handed living her life. Light at the end of the tunnel?  every news broadcast was a media mirror image of the same old same old, until feeling old, and isolated was the norm. 

‘Look at those wrinkles’ Sue thought examining her neck critically, and noting once again that the mole-like spot needed checking. Yet George still adored her and she, him. Her mind went to the issue which occurred that morning and in which upon reflection, Sue knew George was correct …again.  Dear me, it was just as well the mirror did not speak; for it would tell her off however mildly for being rude to her darling husband, and he, the most mild-mannered of men.

Smiling again noticing for the umpteenth time that she looked like, though did not sound like her mother.  There could however be no mistaken identity between them, Sue being an “Aussie” through and through Mum being as she herself put it “As Irish as the pigs o’ Docherty” It was a soft Irish burr almost musical, sometimes whimsical, rarely angry, but Susan and her sister were never in any doubt as to who was in charge.  Like George, Susan’s father was the strong almost silent type, handing out love and discipline hand in hand. As a consequence, she was certain that she and George dealt out the same kind of discipline to Alan and Jim.

In the early days of their marriage, life had not been easy.  Sue remembered those months when the boys were young and Alan‘s health was a concern.  Sue was unable to work, money was scarce and she seemed to constantly wear a baggy green leisure suit hiding the bulges of fear, fatigue, fat and poverty. She envied the young women in their church.  They were always flitting off here and there without a care.  Their kids were healthy enough to get into mischief. Alan simply wasn’t and Jim did as most toddlers would do, get into everything particularly if mud was involved.  There was very little time to gaze into the mirror beyond hair brushing and the occasional “dab” of lipstick and powder to disguise the wan look that most young Mum’s suffered. Yes, the green suit hid a multitude of sins and when it was dirty a black version of the same was used.  It did not matter to the shop keepers for she was one of many young Mum’s in a tearing hurry to get everything done before her husband came home, wanting and deserving his dinner.  It was simply a time of mirror images, much like the bygone eras where her mother or grandmother did the same. Each era had its own pressure, and everyone learned to deal with pressure. Again, the smile; memories of life with mum.

Her mother had passed away six months previously, and though Sue knew it was simply old age and nothing more that took her, she missed the wit, the down to earth advice, the quiet presence and certainly the Irish idioms.

Mum was always so patient She would no more have used the words to Dad that Sue had said to George, or would she?  Mum never did a thing wrong in her life, she was the perfect cook, housekeeper, mother, volunteer and Sue was none of those things but she strived to be and failed.

She heard the back door open.  She hurried towards the kitchen to find George home early.

“What’s up, love?”

“Half day off had you forgotten?” George hugged her

“George I should not have…”

“I shouldn’t have ... either it’s early days yet pet” George put the kettle on, looked at Sue and said:

“You know Sue I think one of the problems about these dreams is this. You are always seeking to be as good as Mum, but you can take the mirror image too far.  Emulating somebody does not allow the person you are to develop.  Take it easy, honey, I love my Sue as she is and with a different kind of love that I had for Eileen, who incidentally approved of me, for you.”

That was the whole point.  Sue was conditioned to be like her mother not because Mum was the smothering type, but the organised, calm type. She had forgotten to be Susan Eileen, George’s wife,  and Mum to their sons.   Gazing into the small mirror above the stove she said:

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall; who is the biggest idiot of all?”  She fancied she heard her Mum laughing and whisper

“Begorrah, she’s still pulling herself down.”