Writing for Fun
March 2023
The Stranger- Jan Norman
I looked up, and, without intending to, found myself locking eyes with the woman facing me. I could not avoid her, or her me, as she was barely a metre away – in my sacred space.
I lifted my hand to reach out and make contact but dropped it again as the sudden shock of recognition nearly took my breath away. Here was a woman I had known for all my life; seen daily but dismissed with the contempt that familiarity usually brings. I avidly scanned her features trying to see the woman I once knew.
Surely her hair was whiter and more wispy than I remembered and her lined face and neck now sagged and puffed in places I had not even contemplated. Jowls now loose and wobbly and lips no longer full and inviting. Faded blue eyes under crinkled, hooded lids peered out from behind glasses. Looking at me with the same shocked surprise that I knew she saw in my face. She raised a red, wrinkled hand to touch her own cheek and I felt myself mirroring her actions. With sorrow my hand touched my own lined and worn face: a face damaged with the same ravages that time brings to us all. Albeit that time is sometimes kinder to some than others, we all have to endure its touch.
I sighed and, in my heart, railed against the cruel effects of the passage of time and felt great sorrow and, with eyes tight shut, squeezed out a tear. Dashing away the saltiness I raised my eyes to her face to try and gauge her reaction and then it happened. She smiled – a smile that no amount of time could erase. A personal signature of the soul, her smiled instantly conjured up the young girl I had known and I felt my own soul lighten. With a smile on my lips and a contentment newly found, I turned away from the mirror.