Through the Rearview Mirror by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Jonathan Borba

Through the Rearview Mirror

My childhood home

Appeared in the rearview mirror

As I watched the movers start to pull away

With the last remnants of my parents

And my childhood

And I, along with the house, was empty.

I had gone down to the basement one last time

And reluctantly said my goodbyes to 

my books and record albums,

And my dolls and my toys that I had planned to give to my children

Until the day I realized that no children that would be coming.

My wedding dress had been stuffed into a box

In the far corner where the washer used to be

My dress hadn’t exactly been cherished after the divorce

But yet it, too, had remained,

A sad reminder that hope can fade without a whole lot of fanfare,

As easily as a once-beautiful silk dress.

I had discovered my compass on a shelf from my 4-H days

And I wondered why it hadn’t guided me away

From all the wrong choices I had made.

I continued to watch the truck through the mirror

Appearing to be shrinking as it bumped its way down the road

 and then disappeared through the underpass

To destinations unknown

Carrying my memories and the fragments of my life.

I turned on the engine

And headed away from the truck

Away from the underpass

Away from all that had once been my life.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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