Reflecting

I hung a mirror in my daughters' room because they enjoy looking at themselves. There was some measuring and drilling involved. When I lifted the mirror into place and hung it on the screws, using the level to make sure it was straight, I stopped and stared at my own reflection, those eyes looking back, seeing too clearly, deeply. I try so hard to avoid these moments of reflection, but there I was. Whoever I am. Oceans of disguise in those blue eyes. I promised I'd never go there again. I'd come through the undertow, barely. But the sea is not only in me, I'm in it, subsumed. You can see it in my eyes if you get close enough. Upsetting, soft, luminous eyes. Looking back. Seeing too clearly. I swore I'd never look there again. But here I am. 

Typically, after using tools, men feel they have earned a beer. Cheers.

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