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They
say people have found some pretty incredible stuff hiding in almost plain view
in old houses.
Secret
cubby holes wherein lay chests of gold and gemstones, hidden rooms in which
Civil War abolitionists hid escaped slaves as they journeyed to freedom on the
Underground Railroad, hundred year old notes beneath loose wooden floorboards,
messages written beneath several layers of old wall paint.
A few
years ago, when we installed wood laminate in our living room, my wife and I
made a point to write our names, date and a brief message of some sort on the
existing tile floor; before it would disappear again for a very long time. Perhaps
one day someone will ‘unearth’ what we left behind that day.
In
the past couple of years, I took my bathroom mirror down. I don’t remember why.
Perhaps it had developed a crack, or perhaps I had planned to replace it with
something a bit more fashionable. I mean, the mirror was, no doubt, first
installed in 1980 when our house was built.
Speaking
of hidden messages, after I unscrewed the small brackets which held it in
place, and set it aside, I noticed some cursive writing on the wall behind it.
Oval
Mirror
20”
Wide
40”
Long
Pt. 2
Someone
else had the house built, and lived in it for a decade before we purchased it. I
have often wondered what became of the man who wrote the words under the
mirror, and thought about the lives and outcome of the people who preceded us
here.
I
have often mused that we will be here for “the duration.” I just can’t imagine packing
up again and moving into another home. The amount of stuff people accumulate in
a lifetime of almost three quarters of a century is, well, almost unimaginable.
Speaking
of the writing beneath the bathroom mirror, I see it every time I walk in and
out of there. I was wondering tonight why I hadn’t replaced the mirror, or at
least painted over the writing which was left there almost half a century ago.
Funny,
when the workman wrote the specifications and hung the mirror, I had just
turned 30. Now, (as I have previously inferred) I am approaching the mid point
of my seventh decade.
I was
in the midst of a difficult divorce when those words were written, and that
mirror was hung. Later that year, I married a lady I’d known since 4th
grade, and who I’d dated after high school. I had just started working for UPS,
and enlisted in the Army National Guard; having served in the Air Force during
the waning years of the Vietnam War. I had graduated with my bachelor’s degree
in Education the previous year. Things were on a roll now. I had just begun to
grow up.
Almost
a decade and a half later, I would graduate with an advanced degree in
counseling and begin a 30 year stint (and counting) in this helping career
field. I would minister to thousands of deserving souls in several locations,
and I have been privileged to witness a myriad of people embrace hope and
change.
Post-script
I realize
I am much closer to the end than the beginning. I pray every day that I might
fulfill whatever still remains of my destiny. The fading words beneath the
mirror remind of the brevity of life, and the still unknown, unseen, unnamed,
unborn generations which will one day inhabit the space which has momentarily
been afforded me.
I
have often laughed and said,
“I
can be thirty again if I avoid mirrors.”
I don’t
know, perhaps this is why I haven’t replaced the one in my bathroom.
by William McDonald, PhD
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