** QUICK ANNOUCEMENT! **
My first children’s story went live this weekend! If you know a child who loves to doodle (or if you love to doodle,) you just may love my new book, “Doodle with the Doodlebugs.” The Doodlebugs will give the reader a line, and the reader can doodle directly in the book to turn that line into something AMAZING. Then, the reader can turn the page and see what the Doodlebugs did with the same line.

If you are interested, you can check it out on Amazon here.

*** THANK YOU! Now, enjoy “The Mirror” ***

I never did see Larry, but I heard Betty tell George months later that they ended up having to take both of his legs.  Larry would be bound to a wheelchair. 

George passed away in 1982.  He had a heart attack in bed.  I watched as he took his last few, struggling breaths.  I stood helpless.  The worst was hearing Betty’s screams when she woke up and couldn’t get him to respond to her.

Betty decided to move.  I heard her muttering about the house being too empty.  I personally think she felt empty without George to argue with. 

Movers came to get her furniture.  Betty ran her hand over me right before they picked me up.  She quickly opened a drawer and shoved some books inside.  I didn’t understand the tears in her eyes.  No one had ever been emotional when moving me before.  They knew they’d see me again.  The movers carried me into a huge truck that fit all of Betty’s belongings and left me in the dark while they got more.

I couldn’t see the end of the truck by the time they finished loading it.  I didn’t know when they shut the back door.  I did feel when the truck rumbled to life and started to pull away from the house.  I was ready to see my new home.

I was not ready for the cramped storage shed the movers shoved me into. 

I was pushed against a side wall, my glass still reeling from the shock.  This wasn’t a house!  Where was I?  What was going on?  Surely there was a mistake!  I wanted to yell at the men to put me back, to take me back to Betty, but of course, I couldn’t. 

I watched as more and more of Betty’s possessions were piled around me.  Why was Betty’s bed being unloaded her?  Surely she’d need her bed!  Several boxes were stacked on me, partially blocking my view.

Then the movers shut the door and everything went dark.  There was a click of a lock.  Then all was silent.

After some time, a mouse snuck in.  He nibbled on my leg to sharpen his teeth.  It didn’t hurt in a physical sense, but I didn’t like it.  I had nothing against the mouse, but I was still bitter about being abandoned.  I had been part of the family for generations.  Why had Betty just deserted me?

Then I remembered her tears.

I slowly came to think that she hadn’t wanted to part with me.  Something had happened to force her to store me here.  I began to imagine all the horrible things she might be going through.  I began to hope that things would get better and I could be reunited with her again.

Years slipped by. 

I cannot feel time like I have learned humans do, but I had also learned how to keep impartial track of time.  I can feel a minute accurately since I am not biased by emotion.  I used that time remembering the families I had lived with.  The houses I had seen.  The emotions I had learned.

I thought once again of Jedediah.  The hands that had so carefully crafted me and given me love.  The man who had been so devoted to his wife.  Dear Elizabeth.  The woman who had been so beautiful, even though she had been homely in appearance.  The light and joy in her eyes, and the compassion that radiated out of her.

The path from their house to here had not always been a pleasant one.  There had been family fights and fights in the world.  There had been many tears and hateful words, but there had always been family.

Would I ever have that again?

Sometimes I would hear tires pass by outside, and I allowed myself hope that the movers were coming back to take me back to my family.  On a few rare occasions, I even heard footsteps.  But they always went to a storage unit next to mine.

Slowly, I began to lose hope.  I began to forget what love felt like.

I began to turn back into a normal piece of furniture.