If you meet for more than five minutes, I’ll probably tell you a story.
I can’t help it.
When they were handing out stories, someone gave me extra.
I tell stories about mile markers that make me cry and the drips on a painted stool and wise brownie fudge sundaes and wise men that bring dish towels and a zillion other things.
And when we bought this house back, of course, there was a story.
One that started with hot rollers and Dear Abby.
Right here in this very bathroom.
The story has another chapter.
With a re-written ending that’s even better.
Here’s where it all started.
With this mirror.
See that strip of light blue paint behind the mirror that doesn’t match the rest of the space?
It’s because that mirror wasn’t there when the previous owners painted the room.
It couldn’t be.
When the house was sold, I brought this mirror home with me.
I was about to leave the house for the very last time (or so I thought) and that mirror held so many memories for me.
The wedding dress.
All the times I checked my lipstick in the mirror before I left for a date.
The one last glance before I leave for the dance moments.
All with that mirror.
I couldn’t help it. Right then and there in the middle of that hallway, something came over me. I couldn’t leave that mirror. I just couldn’t leave it behind in the house. So I reached up and grabbed it and ran out the door with it before the new owners showed up.
I drove it all the way back to Kentucky.
And when I arrived back to the farmhouse I realized that it didn’t really fit anywhere.
So I put it up in the attic.
And there it stayed.
Until I drove it back to Texas and hung it back up.
Right where it had always been.
Right where it was meant to be.
But the story doesn’t end there.
Like all good stories, it has a new ending.
A new beginning.
Because two weeks ago two new characters entered the mirror story.
They were dressed and ready to leave for MORP (that’s PROM spelled backward).
Their dates were waiting.
Their hair was curled.
They had new dresses and new shoes and beautiful smiles and sweet hearts and one even had a tiny little freckle in the middle of her forehead. Their friends were gathered together and everyone laughed and took pictures and exchanged corsages and boutonnieres and watched the sun set and the stars just start their twinkle in the sky.
They were just about to hop in their cars and leave when the twins rushed through the door and headed to the bathroom.
They wanted to check their lipstick in the mirror before they walked out the door.
My heart caught in my throat as I watched these beautiful daughters of mine start their own beginnings.
With an even better re-written ending. 🙂
PS Look what I found in the way back file.
My own set of littles from a little over ten years ago.
Sitting on the front porch of this house.
Just waiting for another story. 🙂
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