Reflections of Me

Today I sought solace in a stranger. She had kind eyes, but perhaps it was the familiar loneliness behind them which drew me to her. The last few years of my life have been nothing short of mundane— seemingly filled with empty conversations, nameless people, and forgettable interactions. I was once a woman who was loved so fiercely I thought I would break, and now I’m stuck in a meaningless existence. No one informs you about this part of life. I am without a husband, with kids who refuse to visit me, in a city where no one knows my name, with zero drive or aspirations. So despite my utter desolation, I approached the woman across the room with the intent of becoming someone to a fellow no one. 

With the depth of emotions laying just beneath the surface, it was hard to think of an icebreaker. I debated between the corny “Do you come here often,” and the too blunt “Does crippling sadness and anxiety plague you too,” but settled on a simple, “Hi. How are you today?” The woman seemed to be zoned out, but she slowly broke out of her daze and looked at me. A small but alarmingly genuine smile stretched across her face. 

Upon first glance I assumed her to be in her early 50s, and while that may be true, it was evident to me years of exhaustion had hardened the wrinkles etched in her skin. Her eyelids were heavy, with cavern-like indents between furrowed brows, and streaky grey hair layered on top of a poorly maintained caramel brown. Sweet and homely were the first adjectives that came to mind.

“I’ve been better, but I’m enjoying the weather. My daughter is coming in town for a visit today so I think the sun came out just for her arrival.”

I had to fight back the twinge of jealousy that threatened to overcome my fleetingly joyful demeanor as I stated, “Tell me about her. I could use someone to live vicariously through today.”

Her expression softened as she exclaimed, “Really? I love any reason to talk about her.” That’s all it took to find a direct view into the heart of the woman across from me. 

Within a few minutes she had shared her name, Lena, and a brief overview of her life before having her children. Lena was from a very small town in Tennessee where she grew up on a farm with multiple brothers and sisters. She tilted her head back and laughed as she depicted what being the middle child in the midst of a Brady Bunch existence was like. Her stories of cow-tipping, pick-up truck make-outs, back pew confessions, and running away to the city filled me to the brim with nostalgia. She sounded so similar to a friend I once had; The friend I had beside me through all of life before that same life was so unfairly taken away from her. My eyes watered and Lena placed a comforting hand on my lap while I explained to her why their similarities made me feel such intense emotion. She paused her life retelling to allow space for the stories of my long lost friend to live again. 

Lena told me how despite running away to the city was her parents’ worst nightmare, it was pivotal for her dreams and success. She lived paycheck to paycheck until scrapping together enough money to launch her own completely organic and locally sourced restaurant specializing in Southern cooking. Her eyes lit up as she described the restaurant being akin to her first baby. She nurtured it, poured into it, was terrified of failing, and yet was overwhelmed with transcendent pride. Due to expansion, she hired on a general manager with whom she quickly fell in love. Darren, the blue-eyed, ruggedly handsome, erotically Australian man who masked his desire for her as a desire to be the general manager. As Lena took longing breaths in his memory, I found myself doing the same. Darren was the kind of man I once loved: patient, romantic, selfless, nurturing. Temporarily lost in thought, I looked over at Lena who rolled her eyes as she stated, “He was so distracting, I didn’t even realize I was pregnant until the third trimester. Stress from work caused me to often miss my periods. My family had a history of alcoholism so I had avoided the drink since I was 18. I assumed the extra weight was from the Honeymoon phase of our relationship. Then boom, the impending arrival of my little girl, Cara, was eight weeks away.”

I opened up to Lena about how my first born was also a surprise. I shared the story of sobbing in the bathroom as my baby suffered with colic and questioning whether I would ever be a good enough person to be a mother. I talked about my Darren, and how he loved me back to joy and health. He spoke life into the parts of me snuffed out by the difficulty of motherhood. I reminisced on how eighteen years and three additional children later, I once again found myself sobbing on a bathroom floor as my first baby drove away to a college across the country. Lena looked upon my face with true devastation as I told her that somehow, all these years later and after so many perfect ones, none of my kids care to come home and see me. I exhaled and shuddered as the tears due to my extreme confusion threatened to escape once again. My voice broke as I told her how extremely lonely I’ve been. I glanced up at Lena and was shocked to see her with real tears streaming down her own face. Apparently I’m not crazy for thinking my story has turned into a tragedy.

All of the gut-wrenching nostalgia and conversation began to truly mentally fatigue me. I think Lena noticed it because she asked to grab my number so we could hangout again sometime. Can you believe that? She wanted to be my friend and all I had to do was be unashamedly myself. As she gave me a parting wave, I caught a whiff of her scent and it forced goosebumps to appear all over my body. It was so familiar but I couldn’t place it. All I knew is this couldn’t possibly be the first time we had encountered. 

As Cara entered the room at the Birchwood Alzheimer’s Facility, she saw her mother Lena ask her reflection in the mirror, “Have we met before?”