Spontaneity of Life

Stepping out of the hot shower,
the bathroom filled with steam,
the large mirror hanging on the wall now foggy.
And yet, 
what is that in the smudgy fogged up mirror?
Is that a hand print?
At the top left hand corner?
How did it get there?
Whose hand print is it?
It appears to be a small hand print, 
about the same size as my
4 year old daughter’s hand.
But how did it get way up there?
She must have climbed.
From floor, to stool, to countertop.
 
I feel myself holding my breath as I 
imagine my 4-year-old climbing and scaling
the arena of our bathroom.
I take a deep breath and exhale,
and find myself giggling inside.
In the moment, I feel proud – she’s
not usually so bold and daring.
 
I think about how fast she is growing,
and how in the years to come, 
far from now,
this will only be a fond memory, and
I never want to wipe clean the mirror.
I always want to remember my daughter,
the spontaneity of life,
and the miracle of a life well-lived.

Written by Janet Wepner. Jan 2021 (in Maya Stein's writing group)