Curtis M. LeBlanc

Curtis M. LeBlanc

…and then one day I looked into the mirror and saw an older man with grey hair in his beard, cracks in his face and a discernible contemplation in his eyes.
It was as if time had unknowingly crept up and stolen the memory of all the subtle changes throughout the years, leaving him perplexed in thought at a seemingly familiar face he could barely recognize.
Wasn’t it just the other day he was borrowing his fathers razor or popping unsightly zits…how have the minutes of each day getting ready, standing in front of this mirror, added up to the age before him now summed up in the reflection?
As I continued to ponder, I drew my attention closely to his eyes in hopes they would reveal some fathomable explanation to my uneasy wonderment.
It was there that the truer vastness of time had left its imprint. Laid out before me just behind those eyes were all of the joys and horrors of his life, the faces and places he’s seen and witnessed.
It was in that moment that his appearance no longer held any curiosity or confusion…as if I found my familiarity with this face.
I then stood back a bit, and with purpose and intention looked deeply at this reflection before me…settling into it, in hopes that next time…beyond the aging face, I would unquestionably recognize him.

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