Here and There

As she awoke for another day, she lied in bed for a few minutes. She had learned to just relax in her bed and appreciate that she had yet another day before her to live and live better. So many ideas running through her mind about her own spirit and being here on Earth. The ideas were exciting, and she enjoyed pondering on them, it was her escape. These ideas filled her with vigor and excitement about what could be.

She dropped a coffee pod in her Keurig and patiently watched as the coffee was being extracted and her cup was filled. The aroma filled her senses, eyes closed, her body was awakened to the sweet scent. Holding the cup in her right hand and with her left hand also wrapped around the cup, she took a deep breath and sipped her first sip. Oh, the joy of that first drink. She felt ecstatic. Yes, the cup of coffee and the ideas in her mind filled her with joy and eagerness for the day before her. A simple act, ideas of delight, this was her happiness. Simple, yet happy.

A Saturday morning, a day of nothing much to do, if she decided so. The cup of coffee reached her lips, the last sip, so comforting. Her mind played out a scene of a gentle stream. She lost herself in the sounds of the trickling water. As she saw herself sitting on a boulder, bare feet in the water, she could feel the cold stream water electrify her entire body. The chill of the cold water reverberated throughout her. It seemed that every cell in her body was engaged and touched. She felt a sense of control very much. A control that was easy and loving. 

The special time of reflection, not much of anything to do-ness, was a satisfying ritual of hers. It was an act of simplicity that gave her so much more life, it sparked her. There was not a care in the world if no one else joined her in the physical act of pondering; she understood this was a lone road of pure enjoyment.

Another deep breath and she opened her eyes. The birds outside her window are still chirping and fluttering about. She stares intently, peace envelopes her and she decides to move on with her Saturday morning. A to-do list hangs on her refrigerator door, not too long of a list, but the to-do’s not so fun. She much rather snap her fingers and accomplish all on the list with a single snap. Maybe one day, but she tells herself, ‘Not today I suppose’. 

She grabs the list and places it on the kitchen counter and says to herself ‘I got this’. She takes a few steps down the hall and enters her bathroom which is well lit. She runs the hot water in the sink and places her facial cleansing products on the counter as is customary for her. As she is raising her stare to the mirror above the sink, she hears ‘snapping’. Not just in her mind's eye, but audibly. Her ears can’t deny the vibration that they have picked up on. She is now seeing herself in the mirror. She feels herself smiling and the reflection reports back what she feels, she sees a smile on her face. ‘Ok, now that's what I’m talking about’ she thinks. The snapping is there also, and she sees herself snapping away, yet she doesn’t feel herself doing it. She shakes her head in disbelief and places her hands over her head. Another deep, slow breath.

The trickling water, ‘that can’t be my sink, it never sounds like that’ she tells herself. She dares to look up and into the mirror again. She can see herself dancing and twirling about. She’s enchanted by the reflection and how easy life seems to be there. ‘Wait’, she exclaims. ‘What the fuck is really going on?’ shouts at her and demands an explanation, some answer to make sense of the illogical. 

She quickly looks away again. She thinks of the to-do list and that it awaits her, no more nonsense questions, time to get a move on. The snap of the fingers is louder now. The sound is like a magnet, drawing her into its rhythm. Her gaze is back to the reflection. This time, she remains still and observes. Reflected, she is swaying back and forth, like the flowers in a meadow, to and fro. The trickling water beneath her feet, the birds chirping around her and over her as she dances and continues to snap her fingers. A magical dust appears at each snap. The dust particles illuminated with lights of all colors, even some she has never seen before.

The magical dust particles, mesmerizing and beautiful. ‘How long have I been here?’ she wonders, yet she is immobilized. The reflection of herself living out all that she pondered, all that she played with earlier. The ideas she held, now having a life of their own on the stage of reflection. She wonders how this can be, if all her life the reflection in the mirror was exactly that, a mirror of her physical movements, facial gestures and such. 

‘Psst, psst’, is heard. A little nervous if someone is in the house with her, she nervously looks down the hallway, to the left, to the right, nothing is heard. ‘Psst, psst’, again. But this time she knows it’s coming from the bathroom. She slowly turns herself and glances at the mirror behind her. A waving hand and a dazzling smile are there. Again, join in the sounds of the trickling stream water, the chirping birds and now the scent of coffee too. ‘Here and there’, she thinks. Some of the most soothing thoughts are being played out, not only in her imagination, but by her own reflection. A part of her feels ripped off, that she in this physical world isn’t partaking in all that she created mentally. ‘Why am I not enjoying it as you are?’ she mentally asks her reflection. Her reflection replies, ‘Oh, but you do. You wrote the script which I follow to the ‘T’ you see’. 

Well indeed yes, she understands that all that her reflection is doing is what she has pondered. All of the focused attention now has life, she can see its movements. The return of light or sound waves from a surface is what Merriam-Webster defines as, reflection. Her reflection, the best of herself, all the wonderfulness she conjured has come to stay. A bridging of an invisible gap. A dance of two, that is really one. Light and sound within her own mind and her reflection taking it and living it out on the stage of the mirror for her to see. 

‘I’ll do what you have yet dared to do, but have dared to dream’, her reflection tells her lovingly.