The face framed in gold stared back at me, always with my own eyes. Sometimes those eyes held tears, sometimes they were happy tears sometimes they were not. The face stared back at me every day, until today.

Today was the first day I didn’t see me in the little gilded hand mirror.

I am 99 years old tomorrow.

44 years ago today the little mirror came home with me from the antiques shop just across Broadway from my favorite coffee house. 44 years ago today I bought myself a birthday present. Every day since, before bed, after washing my face, brushing my teeth, and applying moisturizer, I’ve looked into that mirror. I’ve looked closely for changes, for signs that I’ve made good choices that day. And I’ve mostly adjusted accordingly.