These Mirrored Walls

Living in her home, the house she and my grandfather built, brought so much peace to my life in the years leading up to the start of our Next Chapter. When the days would batter on and I would find myself crying in our tub because I longed for our little one to join us, I would do so with the curiosity of the past. Did she sit in this same tub, hiding her tears from the world, over the same worries? 

I found so much solace in this. Not just because I didn’t feel alone, but because I knew that one day I would look back at those tears with dry and humbled eyes. Did she, after 10 years of wishing for a little one, sit in that same tub like I did, tired from new motherhood, and feel exhaustion and elation at once? I found myself peeking in Ansel’s room to find him asleep and imagined she and Papa did the same with my Dad. 

Those mirrored walls held such emotional history. I remember sitting on the couch feeding that little life we waited and longed for and recalled memories of the days where Binkie and I we would sit in that same spot, on a different couch, in a differently decorated room, and talk about her motherhood. Thinking back to those conversations that illuminated our related journeys, I travel back in time to dry those tearful eyes with the knowledge that one day, I too would sit in that same spot, a grateful and strong Mom, better for the wear.