Mirror

There are days when I ask myself who I am. There are days when I wonder how it became so, that I would do certain things and say certain things. There are days when I wonder how my passions were molded. Why do my eyes see the world this way?

On those days I look in the mirror.

I stare until I find what I'm looking for. I search my own eyes for answers. I search my own face for resolution. Then I watch while my jet black hair sprouts and grows near my shoulder while some gray uniformed strains infiltrate my scalp. My cheeks round and my skin's hue darkens a few shades. There are lines on my face from when I smiled too much. It shows that I cried too. Big cries. The kinds that scar the inside. The kind that time heals.

I find wisdom in my own eyes -- eyes that have seen growth and success and failure. These eyes have seen life and survived death. These eyes are hopeful and resilient, compassionate and experienced.

My heart beats differently.

This heart is big enough to love the world. This heart has a capacity that I've only strived to. This heart has been broken over and over and yet defiantly beats stronger each time it has healed all by itself. This heart gives with no thought of restitution. The heart knows Life. It knows that Life will find repayment, whether it's today, tomorrow or in the next lifetime. I look down.

My hands shrink smaller. My fingers are thinner. These are a teacher's hands, a molder's hands.

A Mother's hands.

There is nothing I have accomplished without your hand pressed against my back. There is no truth I have spoken that you didn't insert into my thoughts. My successes are yours. My failures are my deviations from the path that you illuminated for me. You make me smile in a way that warms me like the sun. You are my light. You are where I seek salvation. You are where I find my truth.

You are my example. You are my friend. I love you.

Thank you. You didn't just make me.

You made me.


-Your Son.