Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Reflections on a Mirror
On my two-block walk from the office to the bus terminal, I saw an unremarkable post office truck make an unremarkable left turn from Beale Street south onto Mission Street east. As the truck negotiated the wide turn, its rear view mirror detached and fell off - a big convex circular mirror, ostensibly bolted to a metal rod extending off the back of the van. The mirror hit the ground with a hollow crack, not the sound of breaking glass but the unfulfilled sound of a thin metal rim against concrete. From there, it rolled on its edge in a lazy circle that spanned three lanes of traffic before colliding, its momentum almost entirely exhausted, with the front left wheel of an Accord that was waiting for the green on Mission westbound. The impact sent the mirror down onto its face, partly underneath the car. The driver glared down out his window to see what had made the noise, looking as if he were on the verge of rage - but he saw nothing and restrained himself. As the light changed and traffic started to move, the back tire of the Accord crushed the face of the mirror to the asphalt. It was subsequently run over by three more vehicles before I walked away.
I watched all of this from the corner where I stood, and laughed - and then I thought, that mirror is a metaphor for me, for my life - offering a distorted view backwards, loosely moored to my foundation even in the best of circumstances, but then breaking free - not to fly, but to plummet, and, on landing, not to rest in peace but to spin drunkenly, out of control, until I collapse, to the annoyance of others, face first, my light hidden, ultimately only to be ground down into dark realms again and again by the heedless forces I once purported to observe.
Wow, I thought next, I really need to cut down on the caffeine.
