Overcoming Bloglessness



Daily Prompt 
The Mirror Crack’d.
You wake up one morning to a world without mirrors. How does your life — from your everyday routines to your perception of yourself — change?



If there were no mirrors I would no longer have to see my mother reflected in my face.

I used to think I took after my dad’s end of the gene pool. That’s where I got the red highlights in my hair. But age has brought my mother’s features into focus. Our facial structure, our eye shape is sadly similar. The older I get, the more I look like her.

Our features are similar, but her face had a mean look to it. That’s not just my perception, familiar as I am with her sharp edges. My friend saw it too. When Peg first saw a photo of my mom she said, “She looks evil.” Peg didn’t know that much about my mom; she’s just very perceptive.

Mom’s dishwater-blonde hair was usually hidden in twists crisscrossed with bobby-pins that poked me when I got too close. It looked like it would hurt, the way she sectioned off her head with a rat-tail comb and pushed those bobby-pins across her scalp. But her head was hard; calloused maybe, from all that friction.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked when I started wearing it short.

“I got it cut. What happened to yours?” I answered, surprised at what had just come out of my mouth. I saw her flinch. She was in no position to be critiquing hair-dos.  Her hair looked like dead grass with bangs.

If there were no mirrors I would check my reflection in windows or kettles or birdbaths to make sure that my bangs were not hanging straight across the brow, the way she wore them.  That’s when I see her the most, when my bangs are  straight across or when I’m scowling or mad.

In a world without mirrors, I would still remind myself daily to smile.    I look least like her when I’m smiling.







Author: Susan B Raven

For many years I have suffered from debilitating bloglessness, only writing in my head, while everyone else posted and shared with ease. Previous attempts at recovery have failed, my secret journals edited to death, pages torn out, crumpled and trashed. I will not succumb to this embarassing condition. I will continue to struggle against the rampant backspacing and endless blank staring. I refuse to relapse into the void that is bloglessness. I can do it. I am doing it. I am Overcoming Bloglessness.

5 thoughts on “Reflections

  1. Wow. Beautifully written. I wear my hair long because if it is short, I will resemble (not look like) my mom. Though part of my loves her deeply, achingly, most of me just simply never wants to see her again. I am a composite of others; I have my great-grandmother’s drooping eyelid, my grandmother’s physique, my other grandmother’s facial type, my Aunt Martha’s eyes. My ONE absolutely similarity to my mother is, oddly, the middle finger of my right hand.

    • Thank you, very much. “Resemble” is the better word. I don’t look like her. It’ll sound vain, but I’m way better looking. 😉
      That is odd; your middle finger?! How are they similar?

      • They look the same. The same nail, everything. It doesn’t seem to fit the rest of my hand, and just the right one. :O

  2. I love your honesty and the twists in your piece. You get an A plus for both your blog name and your blog entry!

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