The first recollection of the woman looking back at me from the side view mirror of the car was when we were approaching the St. Louis Arch on a trip with my husband and children. She seemed a bit strange to me all those years ago but at the time I was sure I should know her.
As the years have passed, her face looking back at me has changed dramatically until I really am not familiar and seem to have no connection with her. I see the eyebrows of my father on her face and the Slovak nose that is part of my maternal heritage, but as for her, she is a stranger.
I wonder who the aged woman is who looks worn and tired. Her neck sags a bit and her hair has lost its bounce even from the St. Louis days. There are dark circles under her puffy eyes and she looks as if she knows this is only the beginning of a look that will get even more worn.
I am leery of this woman who looks back at me from the side view mirror. I know she is not me because inside I am still 21, the age when I graduated from college and felt I had the whole world in front of me. She can't be me because I do not feel as old as she looks. Then I see her smile and the dimples that I have had since I was a little girl appear. Can it be?
I long for her not to be me. However deep down I know I must make peace with her. But I am not quite ready to cross the divide between the passenger seat and the mirror. Maybe tomorrow.....maybe next year I will join her and accept her presence. In the meantime I will try not to stare and leave her alone to look back at me with her damn dimples.
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