Two Mirrors
Published Thursday, February 17, 2005 by Expert Village | E-mail this post
Living at home again with my parents has been an interesting study in Fathers in Sons for me. I find myself constantly staring at my Dad wondering how I am so much like him and nothing like him, both at the same time. There was a moment yesterday when I walked into the bathroom downstairs in the office where we keep our computer and library. My Dad has pretty much set up shop in there and is always working on something that requires precision, something I know little about.
When I walked into the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wanted to compare my face to my Dad's immediately. It wasn't just the features that I noticed were similar, but what they indicated: secluded, intense, unimpressed. The blue light from the computer screen encased my Dad's face, making it look older than it really was, frozen. He wasn't moving much either, which added to the effect. I don't know if he saw my staring at him and then back at the mirror, but it's likely he wouldn't have reacted (he's not interested in such things) even if he did.
I saw myself there, him, dead and alone. I saw what I loved about that. It's peaceful. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the me who refused to be my Father, always drawing attention, always laughing and inviting people to dinner. The images never mix, never collaborate. They shove and slink away from each other, assuming kingship over the vessel, both wanting ownership, an imprint designating permanence.
Both are spirits wishing to take the wheel. But mostly it is me, realizing that what I want most is to be my Dad, and at the same time realizing that I cannot, that I must not, that he must not let me be him. It is in his presence that I find my knees the weakest and my hands groping for definition.
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