| The two-way mirror
People on the other half of the globe think: “We are on this side of the world.” But they’re not. Those on this side, think the opposite. Neither are they. Reflection, the nursemaid, holds the twin and appeases them to both sides. At a sidewalk café table sits a man in the early morning hours. A night worker, thinking of the coming day. And he thinks of the old friend he hasn’t seen in years; who left when times were difficult while he stayed behind. A countryman on the other side of the world who lives in the night when he should be in the day. An odd fellow, like himself. But something is about to happen, if it hasn’t happened already. His mind wanders: “Will we ever meet again?” he thinks, when suddenly he notices this very same friend standing on the other side of the road. The quirks of the mind! They look at each other, incredulous: daggers tearing into silk. Is it him? Unmistakably, but older. The shock of hair over the face, slightly greying now. The same smile, the exact same gait, that forehead. Both hold the other’s gaze in dismay, completely transfixed. A shadow of a doubt, that scar on his brow, he can’t remember that. And the bony features, he hopes his friend isn’t ill. The bigger nose? People grow older. But yes, the same except for the changes. Somewhat shorter than he recalls; a broader face and shoulders. Identical yes, except for the memory lapses. He gets up from his chair, drawn forward, instinctively. The long lost friend also, striding in his direction, returns the generous smile. Both feel rather awkward. Thank God for miracles! The world is not inhospitable, after all. They stare at each other close up, shake hands and hug; the exhilaration is total. They are blown away. Then the final recognition: both, ten years too old ... “I thought …” “But you look just like …” “I could swear that I saw …” And so they apologise and part, being strangers, indeed like friends. He feels spent. Sheepish too, and thinks: everything can be explained; it’s the late hour, a forever divided country, the separation of humanity. Everything except the miracle. |
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