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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Family · #2318823
The mirror reminds Tracey of all she could miss

What Tracey wouldn’t give for a magic mirror, one she could wish upon and take away all her plights. She’d lived a rough life: pregnant at fifteen, her mother’s disapproval and bipolar mood swings, married at sixteen to an alcoholic, divorced with a personal protection order by twenty, and three young kids. Her father helped when he could, but as her parents liked to say, you made your bed, you lie in it.

She had lied in that bed all right, surviving the beatings by her ex, ovarian cancer, which led to a total hysterectomy at twenty-five, her ex’s drug abuse, working multiple jobs to support her young family, and then taking care of her parents who fell ill, one after another. There were days she wanted to escape, just to take off and see if life had more to offer her, but she could never do that. No way would she leave her babies alone to fend for themselves, or be stuck in an abusive household.

When she found the antique mirror at a yard sale, she had to buy it. It wasn’t that she needed it or even wanted it, but more because she asked for something like this for Christmas two years in a row as a young girl. It reminded her of the dreams she’d once had, unfulfilled dreams. There was a carefree time in her life, one that held out hopes for a bright future,

Now her days consisted of breaking up arguments with her three adult children, all needed financial help, childcare, food, you name it, they needed and wanted it and blamed one another for all their troubles. Troubles they had created. She tried to warn them over the years, telling them to take a hard look at what her own life amounted to, but they were headstrong, and it didn’t matter what Tracey said. How many I told you so could you give them without it sounding like a broken record?

After drinking her first cup of coffee this morning, her cell phone started going off. One text after another, all from her kids, then the calls began as they bickered, putting Tracey in the middle of their chaotic lives and stupid arguments. It was her one day off, and she’d be damned if she was going to spend it listening to all of their nonsense.

She grabbed her second cup of coffee and headed to her bedroom. Today, she deserved some pampering and self-care; if she had to turn her phone off to get it, she would.

Sitting on the kitchen chair she dragged into her bedroom the day before, she sat in front of the antique mirror and smiled. “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who’s the unluckiest of them all?”


She laughed at her reflection, serious facial expressions, and ridiculous fairy tales floating through her mind.

“Like the mirror can answer back,” she scoffed.

She reached over to grab her coffee from the side table.

“You’re not unlucky and I can answer back.”

The shock of hearing another voice in the house caused her to drop the mug, the dark contents spilling on the table, the carpet and Tracey’s hand.

“What the hell?”

Yanking multiple tissues from the box, you started wiping up the mess before it stained the carpeting. “I really must be losing it,” she muttered.

“How many times have you dreamt about this moment? Now you’re going to sit there and pretend that this isn’t happening? The mirror said.

Tracey slid back on the chair, facing the mirror, expecting to see someone, or something letting her know that she hadn’t lost her mind, but nothing was there aside from her own reflection. She frowned.

“Not unlucky, huh? This I’d like to hear.”

“That’s correct. You were blessed with things others were not.”

Tracey’s jaw dropped. Once she overcame the shock, she knew she couldn’t let this go. She had to know just what the mirror thought was a blessing.”

“Please elaborate,” Tracey said.

“You were blessed with a child. Not just one, three. How many women do you think ache because their bodies are not capable of carrying a child to term? To experience the elation of childbirth? To know what it’s like to carry another human in their womb, nurture it, feel it growing and moving?” The mirror asked.

“Well, I cannot answer that question. But those women are also spared the aggravation that adult children bring.”

“True. But they miss out on unconditional love. That is a blessing, one you’ve been given threefold.”

Tracey shook her head. All of the bickering, whining, and complaining flooded her mind. All three of her children’s voices converged.

What would her life be without them? Without the grandbabies that she loved? It would be silent. Both parents were gone, he siblings lived far away, and all she had was her children and grandchildren. Would she prefer that kind of silence now, when she was in her fifties?

The answer was a resounding no!

WC: 834
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