I’m surrounded by pictures in frames. Although this is  my room, I didn’t choose any of them. After I left for college, my room was painted and carpeted. When I was married, my room became a place for my dad to work inside on his jukeboxes. Most of the framed things are about different kinds of jukeboxes. They remind me of my daddy. There is a puffin painting on the wall. I think my mom must have hung that one up. It is cheerful and fun. Above one of the two jukeboxes is an old painting. I think that one is for sure dad’s. It is of snow and a cabin in the woods. I like that one because it shows survival in the deepest winter. Then, I look up from my laptop and see me. I am reflected in the framed mirror hanging on the wall. Oddly, that was in my room before I moved out. I am sure they took it down when the room was painted, but it does seem kinda funny. I’m not the 16 year old fixing her 80’s hair with flowery beribboned hair combs, but I can see a little hint of her in the more mature face smiling from the glass. I wonder the stories this mirror would tell this older me and if she would laugh at how the fanciful dreams of youth have become a tomorrow she never imagined?


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