Reflection and Wobble (she who cannot be named)

Reflection and Wobble (she who cannot be named)

When you see someone you think you know —

a glance, a flicker —

but you’re not sure.

You bend down to press the button at the crossing

and a memory rises,

a face that fits.

Was it her?

I look back up

and she’s gone.

But she caught my eye like she recognized me,

and I was just in my own moment,

not thinking of relevance,

not expecting anything.

Then the doubt starts.

Because she had a bob,

a basket,

a headband,

black eyeliner.

She from the charity shop.

She the treasurer.

She the rule bender.

She who stood on her own two feet

while the people around her didn’t have much.

She who was paid.

She I once admired

and once resented

in the same breath.

When I looked up to reciprocate,

to reconnect,

to step back into the eye —

she was gone.

And I’m left not with a cup of tea,

but with memories running through my head.

Would she wear make up?

Is that her?

She looked so old — how could it be her?

It was the eyes.

Not dead eyes —

something in them that made her stand out

from everyone else.

And now I’m thinking of the timeline.

Seven years since the shop shut.

I would’ve been forty five.

She would’ve been fifty.

Could it be her?

She looked so old.

But why do I doubt myself?

The ending in me —

I’m never wrong.

Her face landed in my memory

before I even thought about it.

I aged her instantly,

instinctively,

without effort.

Then I walked out of the shop

and past her again

and now I’m angry

because she recognized me.

Even in a hat,

a dry robe,

grey hair —

my features are my features.

You don’t forget my face.

But I forgot hers.

Or doubted it.

Or disconnected from it

before reconnecting again.

As I walked past I muttered,

“Could it be her?”

Too old.

Too changed.

But the sip of tea,

the sip of coffee in her throwaway cup,

the eyes of recollection —

they looked away

and she was gone again.

Our ships, our paths,

weren’t meant to cross.

Not today.

Strange,

strange

how you get discombobulated

by actions or reactions

you never expected.

Comments

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