My oldest son showered in our bathroom last night. Doesn’t like to turn on the vent fan. Not that it matters much. He enjoys making hand prints in the fog on the mirror. Those who have lived a while and who clean mirrors and windows - eventually - know what happens when you handprint finger-mark misted mirrors and car windows. After the steam recedes palm-and-finger smear a joy. This morning, on the dry mirrors, I spotted my son’s presence. First voice said, “Talk to him about this, make sure he doesn’t do it again and have him ammonia and paper towels himself.” Looked at the hand print again, his fingers, his spirit, his smile when leaving his mark. Second voice sat me down and said, “That’s your son’s hand, his vitality, kiss it.” I kissed the mirror and prayed, prayed that both of my boys grow up healthy and happy. I’ll wipe down the mirror.
