Reflections

Lucy sat on the red velveteen chair smiling at her reflection while she puffed lavender scent in the air. It was a deliciously fresh, lingering fragrance that reminded her of childhood games in the fields behind their house.  Happy, innocent memories before society changed everything.

Her image looked tired and worn.  She squinted slightly and pinched her cheeks in an attempt to produce some colour.  It wasn't vanity.  She had long since given up the hope of attracting a decent husband.  When she was young and beautiful, men had flocked to her side with silly smiles and empty promises.  They had looked deep into her eyes and drowned in the depths of her soul.  Those eyes were still deep and mysterious but no one wasted time looking into them anymore, except herself.

She smiled a sad little twisting line across her face and ritually brushed her silky blond hair to the count of 50.

The biggest hope had been George.  A friend of the family who admired beauty in the way a poet does.  He didn't necessarily marvel over the sweeping delicate foliage but preferred to touch the gnarled trunks and intricate bark patterns within.  He embraced nature in a calm and wondrous fashion.  He made the whole world feel special just for existing.  

If only life was as easy as holding on to a fairy's wing!

George laughed at Lucy's worries of finding a real job and being able to cope with domestic chores.  He was a free spirit who accepted life in all its complexities.  He laid down claims of love and she was so tempted it made her head spin for a while.  

She had no one to really ask for advice.  Mother was dead and so-called friends were reluctant to voice their true opinions.  She knew in her heart that the love was reciprocated but her head decided to rule and she told George to go and make a more suitable match.

She still felt twinges of sadness when she recalled his desperate face.  The pleading and imploring had sent darts of pain into her chest.  

Since then deep anxiety lines had formed and cracked a once smooth forehead.
She had tried stroking them away with creams but to no avail.  She thought time 
would heal and life settle into a comfortable niche, but as she looked through the 
rectangular window, the face looking back was full of disappointment.

"What else can I do?" she asked out loud, knowing the reflection could not answer 
her.  

In so many ways life should be perfect.  Every aspect was taken care of, meals were cooked, entertainment laid out, hobbies encouraged and beautiful flowers picked and  arranged for every room.

She shook her head and wiped away a slow trickling tear that lingered in the crevice between nose and cheek.

"Lucy it's time to go."  John (her husband) peered his head round the door tapping his watch.  Lucy's reflection looked startled, as it always did when people unexpectedly entered a room.  Her hands flew to cover her ears and the rhythmic rocking began.  

"It's OK now, it's OK now, it's Ok now" Lucy soothed, once John had disappeared.

It only took a moment for the room to become relaxed again.  Gently Lucy leant forward through the silver gilt frame and kissed her reflection goodbye.

She didn't need to say anything.  She came everyday at exactly the same time, to 
spend an hour looking through the window at the mirror image of herself.  Her poor tragic twin, trapped in her own world and the safety of the artificial room in an institution.