in the days leading up to my mother’s passing, she wanted nothing more than to go home. to get her things in order. she wanted to find the incan stamp she found while on a family vacation, back in the days you could still take archaeological artifacts from the sites. she mentioned it before, before her passing was so imminent, but i never saw the stamp. the day after passing, i went through her things in search of this stamp. and i quickly found it.
it was nothing i imagined. it was small. it was shaped like a stamp pencil topper i had in my youth [a circle that necked down to a pencil topper]. it was grey. it was stone or some other material.
it was perfect.
i put it with things of hers i wanted immediately.
but now, that her things are out of her house and in mine, i cannot find it. i’m holding out hope that it is here. that i have yet to find it. that since i have yet to go through all things, that it will appear. but in the back of my mind i’m afraid it is gone. like her. that the one, most prized possession she had, i lost. even writing this makes it too real.
getting ready in the mirror, hair pulled back in a towel post shower, i am applying make-up. unexpectedly examining my reflection in the mirror.
and there it is.
your nose. or “the [family surname]‘ nose as i have dubbed it.
the nose, i’ve hated. with its flat bottom, it’s all too steep slope. the way if photographed incorrectly, makes me look like a pig.
instead, today, as if seeing it for the first time. i treasure it. you, staring at me, in the mirror. as if you’re always here. as if you never left.