How right she is, and how often I have mirrored her thoughts over the past couple of years.
"You are our future," I mirrored, wanting her to know that I could see my future self in her and that her survival enabled my survival.
"Now that," I said, mirroring her enormous smile, "is awesome".
We mirrored her movements with our own.
She was extremely dedicated, and at a young age I wanted to mirror her work ethic and sense of values.
Before long, my lunchtimes would mirror her lunchtimes ("I haven't seen you here before," she once chillingly said), and although our relationship (as I grandly thought of it) never developed beyond the occasional hello, my relationship with tea flourished.
Her gardening mirrors her writing habits: "I putter, make little gestures in a disorganized way,... and eventually... something appears".
Mirror her communication style.
And as I re-enter the dating scene, I send her mirror selfies of my outfits and post-dinner debriefs.
Staring into this mirror, I see her many faces--a child, the girl, the young woman, the not-so-young woman--all present still, preserved like fossils or superimposed Photoshop layers.
