through the looking glass.
I push my bed out of the way so she could watch herself dance in the mirror. Occasionally I’d peek from my computer screen and steal glances of her twirling and stepping. Each move was an identical mimic of a past dance she had seen.
Last year she has taken a class. She had the body for it and the moves down pat. She could do exactly as she had seen, but she never kept a beat because she worked very methodically rather than with the flow.
Watching her dance such sheer innocence, I got lost in my love for her.
Her love was so reverse. If she cut you with mean words or pushed you away you’d have to understand it was not to hurt you. But rather because she was frustrated, and you were the only one she trusted. She was comfortable with you and she hurt you in attempt to articulate a decision or flee from a bad situation.
And all her negative behavior was a copy, something we had taught her unintentionally. So could we blame her for it. It was hard not to, hard not to be hurt, because that was the conventional way.
But notice how when you hold a book in the mirror you can’t read the words. It’s mumble jumble. She lives on the other side of the mirror and she cannot read the book how we do. She reads reverse. Her world is reverse, we can’t understand it and we can’t expect her to understand how things are here.
In the mirror her steps are perfect. I see this too and all is forgiven.
I watch her dance, watch her smile. So lost in the moment I promise to keep loving her and not expect anything in return.
it’s like John Cusack says in the movie MARTIAN CHILD:
“but a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return.”
It’s not easy but its just what we do.