Reflections at the mall

One of the things that my wife dislikes about going to a mall is the times when you walk past shop windows and you are able to see your own reflection. If you're a good looking person, it can be a great opportunity to admire your perfect form. If you have a body image problem, it is an excellent opportunity for self criticism.

Today I took the girls to the city for a time away from home and to spend some time together while finishing up the Christmastime consumer trend. We left home early and were in the mall before most of the shops were opened. We wandered around for about 20 minutes to get a feel for what we wanted to accomplish first. We noticed the theatre and saw that Chronicles of Narnia was showing at noon.

The girls wanted to stop and spend some of their own money at some girlly shops. I had prepared myself well in advance for this. Normally, Joyce would be the one who would go into these stores with them while I took the boys to Radio Shack or some other fun electronics place. This time, it was I who needed to be the one enthusiastic about frilly pink fuzzy stuff, cheap jewelry as far as the eye could see, and purses, purses, purses. I patted myself on the back after it was all done, for I had succeeded in making my girls proud that I was their dad.

It was when we started wandering around Chapters when the reflections started. I love book stores and there isn't much that could go on in such a store to make my experience bad. This trip was no exception.As I was wandering through the New York Times best sellers to find a couple of paperbacks for my brother-in-law, I glanced over at this well dressed man about the same age as me...perhaps a few years older. He was holding a large stack of books, mostly hardcovers, while he casually perused the best sellers display. He had a good haircut, 3/4 length brown leather jacket, and fantastic shoes. I would like to say that his scarf was cashmere but as far as I know it could have been 100% polyester. I imagined myself in his life as he leisurely moved about the store.

I saw myself paying for the books and not batting an eye at the $475.00 purchase. Travelling home in my nice car would be serene and quiet. As I walked into my studio appartment, I would not need to remove my shoes. A little wipe at the door would be fine. Walking, with my shoes on, from the door over the gleaming hardwood floors would produce that solid, clean sound. The sound of quality and quiet.I would set the books down and nicely stack them on the coffee table. They would be left there until I had read every one of them. Only once they had been read would they find their place in the full wall unit. I would enjoy the first one today after I got home from the gym, had a shower, and poured myself a heavenly portion of a recommended single malt. I would sit on my plush but firm leather couch and make the hardest descision of the day...which book to read first.The house would be quiet, except for the computer which I could hear whirring at the desk. The only other sound I would be able to discern is the ice in my drink clinking against the sides of the glass whenever I put it to my lips.

It was only unnoticable moments before I returned from my "being unincumbered" fantacy.As it was, I looked down at MY shoes and noticed that they were still caked with slush stains from playing with the kids on the community ice rink. My winter jacket has a few expanding foam stains from last winter when I needed to wind proof a basement window...and it needs a new zipper. I'm wearing a hooded sweatshirt that has a few tears around the neckline...but it's comfortable; and I didn't shave today because I couldn't be bothered. I think giving the skin on my face the occasional break is a good thing.

If I were to continually compare myself to all the interesting people around me, I would never, ever, be content. As it is, my two girls were happy to be with their dad for a solid 7 hours of shopping, lunch, and movie watching. Jane, who hasn't lately been so warm, was holding my hand as we walked the crowded hallways. Arianna, who is entering womanhood and not always the most ecumenical, was filled with gratitude.

If I were to stop at a shop window and consider well the reflection, I may not be completely content, but if I use my children as the mirror, I seem to find a reflection I'm a little happier with.