Amy's reflection was in a sulk. Every time Amy hurried past the mirror she could see her reflection out of the corner of her eye, like a silvery shadow, like a shadowy reproach. Amy started to get the nervous, feeling that the Amy in the mirror was watching her more than she was watching the mirror.
Finally, Amy's reflection confronted her as she was putting on a pair of earrings. Amy tried to avoid its moody stare. But when you are looking at yourself in the mirror, the shortest distance between you and your reflection is the line of sight.
"What happened?" Amy's reflection seemed to ask. "You used to give me so much of your attention, but now you hardly look at me at all. And when you do, it's as if I don't even matter any more."
Amy wasn't sure if she could explain, because the answer was still unfolding. It was true that when Amy was younger she used to spend a lot more time looking in the mirror, quite a bit of time, in fact. But that was because when Amy was younger, the only time she could see herself was when she was looking in the mirror.
But then her years began to gather. And Amy started seeing herself reflected in other places. Her work, her friends, her choices. Her mistakes. In fact, Amy began to discover so many unknown sides of herself -sides that weren't always so easy to look at- that at times she felt overwhelmed by how little she really knew herself. There were even times when Amy was afraid of how many good things she was seeing in herself. Where was she going to come up with the ego that she needed to support all the self-esteem she could no longer deny she deserved?
Oh, there were definitely times that Amy would feel herself missing the effortlessness of the Amy in the mirror.
But never enough to settle for it.