Tuesday, 8 January 2013

Mirrors

Bath fresh, I blow-dry my daughters hair on cool setting with a soft brush. Our third time - suspicious of the dryer she twists and turns, and crawls from my lap - a blonde head of damp curls.

Or kinks. Curls I imagine will come. Like my own - which I've straightened in vain like my mother before.

Weather dependent and wayward prone, yet I wish this on my daughter in the hope that - as she grows - she'll resemble me a little more.

We may all be found in the faces of our past. In cheekbones and in smiles. Made of more than we know, a mixture of those who lived before.

I am like my Mum - in looks, in build, in walk. Though fair instead of dark, and burn in the sun where she turns tan.

But I saw myself the other day, like Gran. 30 years old in '51. A tot in a pram on a shopping run. Red hair and curls.

A snapshot on a busy street - a room of people said it looked like me.

I searched afterwards, in the mirror - for Gran. In freckles, in hair, in hands. In the makings of me. To glance her in the mirror would make her easier to keep.

And a black and white snapshot for my daughter to see. The likeness of her mother stood 62 years past in the street... x


9 comments:

  1. This is beautiful... lovely to read before heading off to sleep. I once saw my brother standing in a photograph taken years before he was born...but it was some distant uncle. Eerie, yet somehow reassuring. Thank you x

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    1. Thank you Catherine. Yes I know exactly what you mean about it being reassuring. And I had never seen it before, but it was quite a clear likeness in the photo. Gran's gone, but I have that to keep xx

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  2. Just sat down to read your blog as a treat and have ended up re-reading for half an hour, just drawn in by your beautiful writing. What a gift you have! There is an enchantment to it. REally looking forward to a lovely catch up next week! J x

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    1. Oh thank you Joanne what a lovely thing to say. See you soon xx

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  3. This is just beautiful. I love your writing so much! Please don't stop! x

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    1. Thank you Charlotte - and I could say the same to you! x

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  4. What an exquisitely written piece which sent me scurrying to the mirror in search of my grandmother.

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