Recently Robert and I were walking around at Target, looking for a “screen protector” for my new iPhone 13.
$49 to protect my phone’s screen?! Seriously? What do I get? A special agent? And protection from what exactly? (TIB—Truth in Blogging—I have dropped cell phones with great damage too many times to remember.)
Anyway, after I begrudgingly paid for the special agent, we headed out, passing by the home goods section. I was minding my own business, not looking for any trouble. Out of the blue, Robert called out, in his in-store, raspy, yell-whispering voice, “Neal, stop! Grab that macramé mirror right there!”
Not having any more sense than to obey, I did as I was told.
“Now, look into the mirror. No, not that way, sideways!”
I finally realized, all nervous jumpy and macraméd, that Robert was simply chasing a photo op.
Later: “I don’t like that photo! My hair is so gray. And thin! Look at that baldy spot. My skin is sagging. My glasses are Coke bottle glasses! My sweater’s crooked. And my ears look exactly like Dumbo’s. Delete it!”
The Universe had had enough. And interrupted my ranting. “Look in the mirror.”
Like with Robert’s request, I obeyed.
“Even though it’s not at all really important, you have hair.”
“But,” I began.
“And pause for a second, Neal. You have skin that can sag.”
“Yes, but .…”
“And you have glasses in front of eyes to help you see.”
“You have a sweater to keep you warm.”
“I know, but ….”
“You have ears to hear what the world tells you each moment.”
I ran out of “buts.”
“Look a little closer in that mirror, Neal.”
“You have consciousness and focus. You have understanding and appreciation. You have breath. And warmth. And life.”
“You. Are. Alive!”
I looked again.
And finally saw beautiful.
NealEnJoy 