Reflections on a Window

16/05/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation

 

The first time I saw your face

It was Christmas time,

The streets were so festive,

And you were behind me.

 

It was the first photo I took of you,

Without even realising it

Until I got home later that night,

And saw your smiling eyes.

 

I may have even sighed when I saw you,

Handsome and happy, and so close,

Yet I didn’t even know you were there

Or how important you would become to me.

 

I don’t normally like people in my photos,

Unless they’re my children,

But you – your face! – made the picture,

It came to life for it being there.

 

It was like a ghost of Christmas joy,

The spirit of what holidays should be,

Not quite there but so real,

Like I could reach out and touch it.

 

I must have stared at that shot for too long

Because little voices asked if I was alright,

And I blinked back into reality

To their quizzical expressions.

 

I put that image out of my mind,

No point dwelling on fantasies

When reality was pressing so hard

To make its presence known.

 

There were dinners to make,

And school bags to pack,

A whole other life of routine

That wasn’t make believe.

 

But somewhere in the back of my brain

The memory of your face was burned,

Staying with me through the day to day

And waiting until it was needed again.

 

Christmas Day came and went,

And New Years and birthdays,

A whole host of monotony

Mixed in with some cheerful interludes.

 

Once again, the city came to life

With sparkling lights and bunting,

Wreaths and life-size gingerbread men –

And windows awash with decorations.

 

As I raised the camera to take one last shot

Of that last window display on the street,

I paused, caught up in a memory,

Of a face reflected in a window a year ago.

 

But it wasn’t a memory haunting me,

It was your smile – your eyes – your dimples

Reflected in the window in the here and now

Right before my very eyes.

 

I spun around and there you were,

Flesh and blood, close enough to touch,

And I opened my mouth to speak

But no words came out.

 

I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks

And I wondered what I was thinking,

There was no way someone like you

Would ever notice someone like me.

 

Then I felt a tug at my jacket,

“Mum,” said a little voice from down below,

“That’s the man from the photo.”

And the colour ran from my face.

 

I prayed you hadn’t heard

But your face turned down to my child,

Then up to me, soft and a little confused.

“Do we know each other?”

 

And the whole story came tumbling out,

A reflection that had captured my heart,

That had inspired confidence in my ability

And had hung proudly on my wall.

 

From humble beginnings to a fame of sorts,

My images were far more recognisable than I,

But you – your face! – was behind it all,

Behind every new adventure I took.

You blushed, and smiled, and lowered your eyes,

Then crouched down to my children’s level,

“Your mummy is very talented,” you said,

Before rising back to face me.

 

“I’ve seen your works but I’ve never seen me.”

I was almost too scared to tell you

That I’d never shown that photograph,

That I didn’t want to share you with the world.

 

“It’s hanging in my hallway,” I stammered,

Not quite sure that any of this was real,

The world had drifted off somewhere.

“You should come and see it sometime.”

 

The words had escaped my lips before I knew

And I could not swallow them back down.

Frozen to the spot in fear of your answer,

But trying to anticipate your every word.

 

“I’d love to, but maybe we could …”

You looked almost sheepish,

A little shy, to say the least,

“ … have a meal sometime as well?”

 

So many years have passed since that day,

So many more photos I’ve taken of you.

But none have come close to that first one

When I fell in love with your face.

 

Those little voices are now not so little

But they still love to see the Christmas lights,

And every year without fail

We find ourselves in that very same spot.

 

But this year is a little different,

A new little voice joins the ranks,

All because of a photograph

And a smile that stopped me dead in my tracks.

 

So that, as they say, is that,

In those cheesy movie romances,

But we will have many chapters to add,

And many windows in which to reflect.