Thursday, October 14, 2010


i was looking for

something else,

but i found two mirrors,

buried in bags,

buried in boxes,

buried in a garage.


one, part of

a fold-up hairbrush.

the other,

a compact to check

her makeup.

i found the compact first.

i don't think

i'd ever seen it before.

i held it.

i closed my eyes.




i opened it.

i opened them.

i saw me.

i was disappointed.

some more digging.

i found the other mirror.

i have memories of

that one.

it was used

in nepal.

and india.

and greece.

and peru.

and many other places

where she

knew i'd give

her shit for

carrying a full-sized hairbrush.

in my left hand.

folded open with my right.

eyes closed.




i opened it.

i opened them.

i saw me.

i was sad.

neither one

of these mirrors had

seen a face since


i don't really know what

i expected to see.

maybe her.

but i had to

remind myself...

these aren't

like cameras,

preserving an image forever.

they reflect back

a moment.

a moment that doesn't last.


  1. Matt - you never fail to touch me with your posts. This is amazing and so touching. I know that I've held things that he held or carried and try so hard to feel his presence or some sense that he left part of himself behind.

    Thank you, Lynee

  2. Matt, I too have had the same feelings of wanting to feel his presence in things that were held by my husband. i have hoped to find some letter some thing that would bea message unmistakably from him to me. lately I can't help, but be hit smack in the face that he is now just a memory in this physical world, something I really do not want to be true, but I know it must if I am to move foward.