There hung an old full length mirror on the yellow wall. And I stood in front of it, looking at myself. My hair was showing silver streaks, fine lines were being drawn at the corner of the mouth, the round of my eyes were turning glassy—they were signs of having existed for 30 years, 10 of which were spent loving you.
I looked at my hands and it seemed like it was just yesterday that I held you in an embrace. I distinctly remember your sweet scent that would leave traces of you on my skin when you left for work. Sometimes, you would startle me from behind, right when I would be standing in front of this mirror examining myself just like I’m doing today. You would slip your arms around my waist, rest your face on my left shoulder and look at me in the mirror. You would smile and sway like a happy leaf dancing to the music of the summer breeze. Today, your absence embraces me in your stead.
Sometimes, you would watch me from the bed across the mirror. You would stretch your legs out, resting your back against the headboard. I would pretend to have not noticed you but you would watch while you patiently waited for me to join you in bed. We both knew that all those layers of the night gown would soon be lying crumpled on the floor and the night would be spent in conversation between our skin. Today, I only see an empty space watching me and this time I do not pretend to not notice it.
As I stand in front of the mirror that has known and seen so much of us, I realise that life is too short to wasted on distances and silences. What wouldn’t I give to have you back in my arms, to drown you in kisses, to tell you that I’ve missed you, that your absence has left a deep hole in my heart, and that our love is enough? What wouldn’t I give? Tell me, darling?