A Face Without a Reflection

by Bowen, Linda Lee

  “But she wasn’t perfect!” I protested as I bolted straight up in bed once again. “Remember? She couldn’t see herself, so she wasn’t perfect.”

  “Stay with me, darling. There’s no need to jump the gun.”

  I sighed, dropped back on my pillow, and pulled the blanket under my chin.

  “Krasimira was perfect in every way that mattered,” Mother said with a wise grin. “She was born with eyes that were emerald green and lips that had a lovely pink blush. When she cried her first breath of life, it sounded as if the angels were singing. She had been given ten fingers, ten toes, and just the slightest hint of wispy auburn hair that would one day be her crowning glory. But what her beaming parents didn’t know on that miraculous day was that this glorious babe would never see her green eyes or the way her lovely hair framed her delicate heart-shaped face. Krasimira was born without a reflection. She had a perfectly good image, of course. She was simply unable to see it.”

  She gave me a wink, but I ignored her signal and was up on one elbow, ready to strike.

  “Whoa! Her own parents didn’t know she couldn’t see herself?”

  “Of course not, dear. She was just a baby. All they saw was how precious she was.”

  She looked down at her lap as though she were about to read more from her imaginary book, but I was out from under the covers sitting cross-legged on the bed. I held up one hand, warning her to stop.

  “Okay,” I interrupted. “I get that. But what about later? Did they know about her reflection later?”

  “I’ve got this, kiddo,” she said with a wink.

  I let out a sigh and then wiggled my feet under the sheets and plopped my head down on the pillows once again. The journey was in the hands of the one with the plan.

  “Naturally the child’s minor imperfection was imperceptible when she was an infant and not at all relevant as she began to grow. After all, Mira was a truly blissful child who was extraordinary in all the things that mattered. She was filled with joy, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, patience, and love. Her father adored the very ground she stepped upon and devoted himself to assuring she was safe and secure in the place that was called U-R-Here. Her mother doted on her from the moment she was born, making certain she was well bathed, well fed, and well cared for, as all mothers do. And Grammy, who wanted her precious Mira to be wise, happy, and at peace in all things, read stories to her from the Word, as it was the only book she would ever need.

  “‘The secret to a happy life is written in these pages,’ Grammy would say. ‘It teaches us how to give as well as receive love. We must read the Word and practice these lessons each and every day that we may be abundantly blessed.’

  “And so it was that Mira’s family practiced the art of giving to receive, and in doing so, they were consistently surprised and delighted by blessings from the One Who Provides. And they were never, ever disappointed.

  “‘Love is the key to happiness,’ Mira’s father once mused. ‘But great treasures await all those who are willing to give them away.’”

  I raised myself up again and was about to ask her why we didn’t have a book that gave the secrets to happiness, when my mother hushed me with a finger to her lips.

  “Mira loved caring for the earth and all living things. She cared for her garden and every beautiful flower that grew there. She cared for the animals, birds, and bees, calling each one by name. She cared for the brook, the river, and the stream. She kept them free from anything that might harm those living in their waters. Caring was what made her happy, and her happiness made her beautiful. Little Mira saw goodness and beauty in all things great and small, and the beauty that she saw was reflected on her. This was something that anyone who ever met her could see, and people often said, ‘Mira, you are the most beautiful child in all the earth.’

  “Mira would reply, ‘Why, thank you! You are full of beauty as well.’

  “Her lovely heart was filled with joy, as she knew beauty was something one felt when they gazed upon things they loved. It cannot be seen in a mirror; it resides in your heart. And, of course, mirrors were quite useless to Mira, anyway. It didn’t matter if she stood before a mirror or if someone else did. Mira could not see a reflection. Not hers. Not anyone else’s. I suppose there are many people today who would not agree, but this was, in fact, a great treasure to possess. On the day that Mira’s mother and Grammy realized that their most beloved child could not see a reflection, they decided to keep this truth a secret until she was completely secure with her inner beauty.

  “‘After all,’ Mira’s mother declared, ‘nothing good has ever come from gazing at oneself in a mirror.’ And she was right.”

  Mother made a gesture as if she were closing the book. This was her way of telling me the story was over for the night and it was time for sleep.

  “Aww!” I moaned. “Just a little bit more?”

  “I’m afraid not, my sleepy one. Tomorrow is a very big day.”

  “Oh yes! It’s my birthday.”

  “It sure is. And it promises to be a picture-perfect day, just for you. This time tomorrow, you’ll be twelve years old. But tonight, you’re still only eleven, and you need to get some sleep.” My mother smiled as she turned off the light, tucked the covers around me, and brushed the hair away from my face.

  “Mommy,” I said with my eyes already closed, “do you think Mira is perfect?”

  “Yes, honey, I do.” As I drifted off to sleep, I heard her say, “Just like you.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE GIFT

  The morning sun was shining through my window, and birds were singing in the trees. I opened my eyes to the morning light and announced to the world, “It’s my birthday!” I jumped out of bed and followed the aroma of bacon frying in the kitchen.

  The sound of my feet thumping against the wooden floors announced my arrival, and I jumped into my mother’s open arms as she twirled me around and said, “Happy birthday, my wonderful daughter!”

  She kissed me on my cheek. Tiny ripples of joy washed over me as I held her tightly around her neck.

  “Thank you, Mommy.”

  “Thank you, Lily Johnson. If it weren’t for you, I would have nothing to celebrate every tenth day of May.”

  I giggled at my mother’s words, knowing what they were leading up to. I’d heard the story of the day I was born every year, and although I knew it by heart, I was happy to hear it again.

  “You’re quite welcome,” I said, playing along.

  I took my seat at the table while she poured me a glass of orange juice and continued my birthday story. She looked at the clock on the wall and then down to the watch on her wrist.

  “This time, twelve years ago,” she said, tapping the watch with her finger, “you weren’t yet on this earth.”

  I took a sip of orange juice and then sat on both hands and waited for my story to be served. Mother took several strips of crisp bacon from the frying pan and placed them on a paper towel. Then she turned up the heat on the stove and poured perfect circles of batter onto the griddle.

  “It was May 10,” she said, without missing a beat, “the day I was due to give birth. But the very smart doctor told me just two days earlier that I was not nearly ready to have a baby, so he decided to take a long weekend away with his family and said he would see me the following week. Well, he clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with because Lillian Landis Johnson knew that it was May 10 and that she was expected to make an appearance.”

  Mother turned from her cooking to give me a nod and a wink. “And you, Miss Johnson, are not one who disappoints.”

  I nodded my head and took a sip of orange juice. If there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I never, ever disappointed anyone—which was not an easy thing to do. But I had learned this truth from my mother, of course, who had said these words to me thousands of times and always seemed pleased when I acknowledged them.

  “So even though the very smart doctor thought you were going
to wait until his long weekend was over, you decided to—”

  “Stick to the original plan!” I chimed in on cue.

  “That’s right.” My mother chuckled in mock surprise. “And so, at 1:23 a.m., I called the doctor to tell him you were ready to be born.

  “He didn’t believe me, of course, but he didn’t want this very expectant mother to be anxious while he was away. He told me to come to his office, and when he had a closer look, he said, ‘You’re absolutely right, Miss Johnson.’ Then he sent me straight to the hospital.”

  “That’s when the really nice lady at the front desk saw you, right, Mom?”

  “Oh yes! She was so sweet and so kind. I couldn’t have hoped for a warmer welcome. She could tell right away that I was about to become a mother, so she quickly grabbed a wheelchair and took me up to the fifth floor, where she said, ‘Good-bye, dear! Best of luck.’

  “I waved good-bye as she stepped into the elevator, and a lovely young nurse checked me into a room as I waited for the doctor to arrive.”

  “What time was it then, Mommy?”

  “It was 4:31 a.m., and I knew without a doubt that you were on your way. So I climbed into bed and started telling you how much I loved you and how excited I was to know I would see you soon.”

  “You didn’t know if I was a boy or a girl, right?”

  “I did not. And it didn’t matter to me one little bit. I love surprises!”

  “But you’re glad that I’m a girl.”

  “Oh yes, I’m very glad you’re a girl—a beautiful girl born on a perfect day in May.”

  She hummed as she poured maple syrup onto a stack of buttered blueberry pancakes and then placed a single candle in the middle and sang “Happy Birthday to You.”

  “It’s time to make a big wish, Lily Johnson! You are twelve years old today, so you can wish for anything you want. Just remember to keep your eyes closed and try to imagine what your birthday wish would look like. When you have a crystal-clear image in your mind, you can open your eyes and blow out the candle. But,” she warned, “don’t open them too soon, or your wish won’t have time to come true.”

  I was well acquainted with the rules for wish making, one of which was never to say your wish out loud. But the most important one was to keep your eyes closed. Breaking the rules could keep your wish from coming true, and this was one wish I wanted with all my heart.

  I kept my eyes shut tight as I imagined the only thing I ever really wanted in my short life: a puppy. I saw him clearly. It was as if he were sitting right in front of me. He had brown-and-white fur that looked a little like shag carpet but was soft to touch. His long, floppy ears were almost comical and, like his paws, seemed too big for the rest of him. I had imagined him with dark, sad eyes that brightened up the moment he saw me. I could almost feel his tail wagging as he planted kisses that left the smell of puppy breath all over my face. I was afraid that when I opened my eyes, my wish would disappear forever. I couldn’t bear such a grave disappointment. I kept them shut tight until the image began to fade, and I prepared myself for a less-than-miraculous gift. But when I opened my eyes…he was there.

  “Oh, Mommy!” I squealed in disbelief. “My wish came true! It came true!”

  Mother handed me the puppy she must have kept hidden in the barn, and we both laughed as he wiggled up my belly to lick my face. I laughed so hard that I cried and nearly fell off my chair. I didn’t ever remember being so happy.

  My mother was incredibly happy too. She laughed as the dog planted big, wet puppy kisses all over me. Then she clapped her hands in unbridled applause and shouted, “Hooray!” as if she simply could not contain herself any longer.

  “You know what, Lily?” she asked as she knelt beside us. “I think you’re his wish come true too.”

  I held him close to my heart and said, “I’ll love him forever.” And I meant it. “Where did he come from? How did you find him? Does he have a name? What kind of dog is he?” I abandoned my birthday breakfast and sat on the kitchen floor as my new puppy climbed clumsily on and off my lap.

  “Well,” she began, “a business associate of Mrs. Robbins has a farm not far from here. They have an otterhound who recently had a litter of four puppies: three females and one male. He’s just twelve weeks old, and this is the first time he’s been away from his mother. Her name is Molly. They aren’t sure who the father is, but I suspect it might be a border collie that lives nearby. He was on the property when I went over to meet Molly and again when I picked up the puppy. Both he and Molly are very friendly, so the pup should have a good temperament. Molly’s owner says he is very playful and that he loves chasing rabbits, although he never gets close enough to catch them.”

  “That’s good,” I said, as I truly loved the rabbits that lived in our yard. “What’s an otterhound?” I asked. Was it half otter, half hound?

  “Oh, otterhounds are wonderful dogs, but there aren’t many of them. They are very smart, very friendly, and very, very playful. I’ve never seen one before Molly, but I can say she is one of the nicest dogs I’ve ever met. Molly’s owner said her granddaughter loves to play with the puppies, and although Molly is very protective of them, she is gentle and passive around the little girl. That says a lot about her! And she is absolutely beautiful. She has long, floppy ears and hair that hangs over her eyes. I think her breed is called a blue fairy otterhound. We’ll pick up a book at the library this week and learn more about them. Border collies, of course, are wonderful dogs. I think it’s a nice mix.”

  She scratched the pup under his chin. “He doesn’t have a name yet. That will be up to you. Do you have any idea what you might like to call him?”

  I knew exactly what I would call him, of course, for I had given it considerable thought. Having wanted a puppy for so long, I imagined him being full of energy, playful, and delightfully bold. I envisioned him running happily through the meadow, chasing butterflies and rolling through the thick green grass. But he would always be mindful of my presence and would never stray far from my side. It was as if he were as much a part of me as my breath and just as vital to my existence.

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I want to call him Spirit.”

  “Spirit! Why, that’s a perfect name,” she said, cradling the puppy’s head in her hands. “Welcome to our family, Spirit.” She kissed him on the nose and hugged me around my neck. “Happy birthday, precious,” she said. Then she made a fresh batch of pancakes and added extra butter and syrup, which I wolfed down in a matter of seconds.

  “That was delicious,” I said, although I hadn’t tasted a single bite. I was much too excited about my birthday present to pay attention to food.

  Mom smiled and shook her head as she cleared the table, and I sat on the floor with Spirit.

  “It looks like it’s going to be a very beautiful day.” She gazed out the window. “Why don’t you take your shower and get dressed so you and Spirit can go outside? Also, I’m quite sure Mrs. Robbins will stop by to wish you a happy birthday. It would be nice if you were dressed when she arrives.”

  “Okay, Mom. Will you keep Spirit company while I’m gone?” I picked up my pup and buried my face in his soft fur as he licked me once again.

  “My pleasure,” she said cheerfully as I handed him over to the safety of her arms.

  I took a shower and got dressed in record time; I didn’t want to be away from Spirit for more than a moment. After brushing my teeth and hair, I ran down the stairs singing, “I love you, Spirit! Oh yes, I do!” I jumped from the third step onto the floor and landed with a loud thud that rattled the house and startled Spirit, who began barking from the other room.

  “Good heavens!” I heard someone cry out.

  I ran into the kitchen to find Mrs. Robbins sitting at the table and a large gift box next to her on the floor. I was surprised by the size of the box and couldn’t wait to open it, but not wanting to appear impolite, I pretended not to notice it.

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Robbins. I didn�
��t mean to startle you,” I said sincerely.

  “Yes, well…perhaps you should consider walking down the steps like a lady instead of jumping like a little heathen.” She brushed a wayward strand of hair from her brow and sat stoically, awaiting another apology.

  “Yes, ma’am. I really am sorry,” I said as my mother leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  Spirit had stopped barking and was trying to climb up my legs. His tailed wagged so hard that I thought he might turn himself inside out. I picked him up to introduce him to Mrs. Robbins, who seemed to be sizing him up. She held out one hand, which he sniffed before licking it. Her face softened, and a smile nearly appeared as she gently lifted him onto her ample lap.

  “His name is Spirit,” I offered.

  “Spirit. Hmm. Seems like the right name,” she said.

  Spirit sat on her lap, but his behind didn’t stop wagging. He sat up and placed his front paws on her chest as she pulled her face from his incessant licks.

  “That’s enough, Spirit,” she said. She repositioned the pup so he was curled up in the folds of her skirt. He squirmed for a moment until she patted him behind his ears and whispered, “Spirit is a good dog. Yes, he’s a very good dog.”

  Her voice startled me. I’d never heard her speak in such a gentle tone. Spirit responded instantly, overcome by the hypnotic drone of her voice. His head suddenly appeared quite heavy as it drooped and bobbed from side to side. His eyelids fluttered and closed for only a moment, and then they popped wide open again as he raised his head slightly and then dropped it down. His desire to discover his new surroundings weakened as he lay in complete submission in the voluminous fabric.