Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: INDEFATIGABLE (02/11/16)
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TITLE: Eyes Don't Lie | Previous Challenge Entry
By Catherine Craig
02/17/16 -
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~~~~~
It’s 1961.
When Mommy first opened the glass door, I’d hung back. I didn’t want to be here. Though she’d impatiently pushed me ahead of her, saying, “C’mon,” I knew she wasn’t mad at me, but herself, for not cutting my hair sooner. The bee tangled in it wouldn’t have stung me three times if she had.
At first, I had to breathe through my wet mitten because the smells burned my nose. Right now I’ve scrunched my eyes shut because I can’t look at myself in the big mirror or I’ll cry. My hair protects me, kind of like the curtain over my bedroom window. Others think it is beautiful, but without it, everyone will see how ugly I am.
I’m cold; my wet hair pinned up in clips is dripping down my neck. The cracked booster seat that makes me higher in the chair is hurting my leg under my dress.
The tall lady cutting my hair has evil eyes, and I don’t want to embarrass Mommy, so I can’t tell them I hurt, or that I’m scared. I keep swallowing, trying not to cry when I hear the sound of the scissors snipping. My neck feels so bare!
“All done!” she says, so I open my eyes. In the mirror, a stranger with big sad eyes, a long thin nose, and short bangs is staring back at me.
Now I know! I am truly ugly.
~~~~~
It’s 1986.
Disgusted, I exclaim, “Ouch!” I’d just stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara brush for the second time. Why do both eyes water, I wonder, when only one gets poked? Frustrated, I squint at my face in the fogged up mirror, which is still moist from my hot shower even though the fan is on.
Rubbing the excess water away with the corner of a towel, I lean closer and grimace. I look like a raccoon on the run! My eyes, ringed with exhaustion, have a flat, lifeless, fearful appearance. “Is this how I look to others?” I wonder aloud, feeling uncomfortable with this brief rendezvous with clarity.
Avoiding the mirror, I leave the fan running and close the door. I am so glad that I’d bolstered myself against others’ criticisms today by sweeping my hair into an austere up-do. Then with a sigh, I straighten my shoulders and step out into the corridor to begin another workday.
~~~~~
It’s 2014.
With one hand on the steering wheel, and both eyes on the road, I loosen the knot and remove the bright scarf that matches my sweater. Today, I’d prefer casual, less dressy.
Musing, I murmur, “How ironic!” There was once a time when exposing my neck would have been the equivalent of – excuse the cliché – “baring my soul.” Back then my daily grooming was more like putting on armor – layers of false protection insulating me against the world, a self-defensive mechanism left-over from childhood
Catching a glimpse of my face as I check the rear-view mirror, I snap on the turn signal and frown. The gray at my temples is showing again, and I’d forgotten to put on make-up. But, remembering that the Bible says, “Gray hair is a crown of splendor,” I relax, realizing such shallow things don’t matter.
I guide the car smoothly into my daughter, Laurie’s driveway and pull to a stop. The porch light’s warm glow rekindles my awareness of God’s steadfast, indefatigable care that warms me up from the inside out.
Before opening the car door, I take one last quick look in the mirror. Satisfied, I get out, walk across the lawn, and climb the porch steps.
“Mom!’ cries Laurie, throwing open the door and allowing me to gather her into my arms as I’d longed to do when she was a child but hadn’t. Once inside, she hands me a tissue-wrapped package, saying, “It's a surprise.”
Opening the bundle reveals three framed photographs. The first is of me as a child of six with big sad eyes, the second is also me – a woman of thirty, driven, exhausted, and haunted, and the third – me in the present.
“You, you, and the Lord’s you,” Laurie says, smiling and pointing. “The eyes never lie; His Presence shines through your eyes in this last one.”
“No, the eyes don’t lie,” I agree. Smiling and laying the pictures down, I add, “Now, let’s go see that new grandbaby of mine, shall we?”
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I thought that the tenses were a bit mixed at times, flipping between present and past, eg. "The grey at my temples is showing again, and I'd forgotten to put on make-up." In this instance, ...."I'VE forgotten to put on make-up" might've worked better.
It's lovely to think that Laurie shares your peace and pleasure. All the best with your writing.
Well done! I, too, loved your use of the mirror.
Congratulations on your HC.
I thought this piece was very original.