A Gentle Wave in the Glass

Pacing down the quiet hallway, I stopped right in front of a tall mirror resting against the baseboard. Another small boy stood there in the glass, looking straight toward me. I paused, keeping perfectly still. When I cautiously tilted my head to the side, the figure in the glass mirrored the tilt at the exact same instant. I lifted my right hand—still faintly dusted with yellow chalk from the patio—and offered a slow, friendly wave. His matching chalk-dusted hand lifted right along with mine. A bright warmth bloomed in my chest as I realized who was greeting me.