Boogers on the Mirror

It’s been a while since Emma last cleaned the room; not because she forgot, it’s just that… she didn’t want to. She tried to remember when the last time was. Was it six months ago? A year? Two years? Who knows, who cares. In the back of her mind, she knew, but refused to remember.

That morning, she collected enough energy and was willing to get it done. She grabbed the mop, broom, and some dusting fabric. Brooms seem to last forever, she could swear that old broom was used to clean the room. Was it? But still didn’t remember when. With cleaning items in hand, she walked up the stairs and reached the door and then stayed put staring at the knob, moving her hand slightly and then retrieving it. Like if the handle would give her an electric shock. This continued for a couple of minutes until she took a big breath and opened the door in a single go. Dust flew, and the room, oh the room… not exactly what she expected. It looked so different with the spider webs, but at the same time, it was the same old place. Nothing had really changed, had it?

The room had an attached restroom. A tiny little one, with a toilet, shower, and sink crammed together. She looked at the mirror that sat on top of the sink; she looked at the dry gray strips on the mirror. With lump in throat she stared and then tears followed. She couldn’t help it. She was avoiding this. How old were these strips? It didn’t matter; it was a reminder of the last days of her son at home, when she could see him every day. But now he was gone, gone to another city, gone to college.

He would call once in a while, but it was never enough.

She didn’t dare to remove the gray strips. Before closing the restroom door, she took another look. The boogers her son splattered before he left spelled: “Mom, I love you.”