My mother recognized me. She called my name, knew who I was, seemed genuinely happy to see me. The thing that impressed me most was how she looked at me. There weren't a lot of words spoken; her verbal skills were limited to one or two word answers, and at times she spoke in unintelligible phrases, stuttering as if stumped by language and comprehension. I understood that our communication would have to rely on instincts, emotions and matters of the heart rather than intellect.
Her eyes seemed to lock into mine and I returned her gaze and stayed there for as long as she held on to it. I tried to say all those things I never had the courage to tell her with words, let my heart and spirit speak through my eyes. I couldn't hide anything from her, wouldn't let our past interfere with what was before me. Yes, I was filled with regret, remorse, shame, all those things things that pride, immaturity and anger get in the way of, but what I was really feeling was unconditional love, respect, honor and privilege.
I finally saw who she was, what she had been, and how much she influenced everything I was and still am. I noticed how much I looked like her, how we almost seemed like mirror images of each other. And, at that moment, she pointed to me and then back to herself and said the word 'mirror'. There was no mistaking. She knew. And I knew. Finally.
Life in a word -- mirror.
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