Mirror Me

He’s like a billy goat gruff

Which I guess makes me the troll, hiding under my bridge.

This comforting trip trap of R wandering up the stairs reminds me I’m not alone.

Hey buddy

Come over to the door

Just not inside.

Such is the nature of isolating at home. He’s masked, I’m masked. He’s on one side of the door, I’m on the other.

At least we can see each other.

Our bedroom door is an interesting choice for the interior of a house. Six rectangular clear panes allow light to reach the back of the house while subverting any chance at privacy.

But today it’s not privacy I’m looking for

Did you get breakfast? There’s fruit in the tray

Yup. Rhino did too.

I’m still not feeling well so we gotta stay apart again today.

Okay.

He taps on the lower window, keeping a rhythm from a song only he knows.

The sound satisfies and soothes my isolation angst.

I put fingers to glass and mirror his move. He raises his other hand and keeps a similar beat.

And then we’re all sympatico, instep. A mirrored duet.

Now it’s a dance. He moves one way, I move the same. A ‘mirror me’ jam session that neither of us anticipated but both of us needed.

Smiles turn to snickers, snickers to guffaws. It’s the connection we’d been craving.

I’m glad he trip-trapped across my bridge.