This time it came out of the blue.
Watching her reflection as she applied lipstick, she pursed her lips and concluded that she didn’t quite look her eighty years. She studied the lines around her eyes. Her fingers in the mirror traced the lines creasing the corners of her mouth. Perhaps… sixty? she wondered. Her eyes left her reflection to assess her hands, then darted back to her reflection. Alright, sixty-five, she concluded, and smiled - and that’s when it happened.
There was her mother’s face, eyelids closed, at rest. Seventy-two; but looking years younger and somehow more serene.