Life is a Parody

by Norman A. Rubin

When you look into a mirror you do not see your reflection—your reflection sees you. —Japanese proverb

Something weird happened in my life a few years back. A strange man in his elder years moved into my house. He just entered with bag and baggage without even uttering 'if you please'. I have no idea who he was, where he came from, or how he entered, but all I know is that he is residing in my house at the present moment. One day he wasn't there and the next day the sight of an elder pensioner was seen through my dimming vision. I did not invite him to my house. He is not a welcome guest; but there he is roaming through the rooms following every step I take.

The following days, even years, he appeared momentarily in my sight; every point of time his appearance changed a bit with an added wrinkle to his face, a slight bend to his back and now with a cane in his brown flecked hand.

He is a clever chap and he manages to keep out my sight for the most part, but whenever I passed the mirrors throughout my residence, I would get a glimpse of him. Whenever I looked into the bathroom mirror to groom myself there he would be hogging the whole view, completely obliterating my rather mature yet handsome face and part of my onetime upright body. Of course it is mighty rude of him. I looked at him sternly and told him in no uncertain words to go away from my sight. But, all he does in return is to mimic my actions.

Well I had enough of this gentleman's entrance into my life. At least he could offer to share in the paying of taxes, the many utility bills, and the rest of the expenses in the upkeep of the house, but no. Yet this elder tries once in a while to heed my request: I would find either a dollar bill or two tucked in one of my coat pockets or some loose change scattered under the sofa's cushions. But, that isn't enough, no siree!

I don't want to come to any sort of conclusions, but I have a feeling that this chap is stealing from me. For example, a couple of day ago, I had withdrawn the sum of a hundred dollars from the automatic bank teller and now I find it all gone. Now, I certainly do not spend money that fast, so I have come to the assumption that this boyo is pilfering from me. At least he could spend part of the money for some hair cream to keep his wispy white hair groomed.

Money is not all that is disappearing. Food, especially my favorite dishes, is vanishing at an alarming rate. The elder chap must certainly have a sweet tooth as cake and cookies, candy and ice cream are also missing from the usual place in the refrigerator or in the shelved containers. I have a suspicion that he suspects this as he tries to cover his actions by tampering with my bathroom scale to make me think it is I that is putting on weight. And he shows that a sweet tooth is long gone by a display of dentures in a glass.

The elder pensioner must be fond of games as he is always acting with tomfoolery towards me. Some of them are quite nasty, like fooling about in my walk-in closet and altering my clothes so they don't fit properly. Or at times messing with my papers so that I can't find anything; quite a nuisance, especially when you can't find the correct documents needed for some official business. This is an annoying habit of the man as I am usually a neat and tidy person.

Oh, there are other tricks this chap plays on me. He gets into my mail, newspapers, books, and other written documents before I have a chance to scan the contents and he deliberately blurs the print. Of course he misplaces my thick reading glasses, which takes a considerable time in locating them. He laughs when I discover that the bifocals are on the white of my hair.

There is something sinister about his ways. He tampers with the volume control of my radio and television set to such a point that all I hear are mumbles and whispers. And what he has done to my telephone is equally bad; many a time I receive only garbled messages.

The elder plays games with me, forcing me to guess the names of good friends that I meet on the street or at social gatherings. He never gives me a clue and I am forced to apologize for my misconduct. He even interferes with me when I am composing a letter by confusing words that are on the tip of my tongue. He should be ashamed by his constant trickery.

Oh, he has done other bits of tomfoolery, like making the steps to the upper floor steeper and harder to climb. I do not know how he does it but he somehow raises my bed so that it takes a bit of effort to get in and out without difficulty. He finagles with my comfortable rocking chair, and after a spell of setting it is difficult to rise with ease.

Somehow he has fooled around with handles to doors and knobs to drawers making them difficult to turn. Another annoying trick is in his manipulation with the water faucets in the house—forcing a splash of water or turning hot to cold or vice versa. Lately he has been fooling around with the lids of jars putting glue around the edges, which makes them difficult to open with my limited strength. But I fooled this trickery by buying a gadget that makes the opening of all food containers quite easy. (My son, who is quite handy with tools, fitted it for me on a kitchen wall.)

The elder follows me when I am shopping around for a new pair of trousers or a fashionable and warm winter coat. He stares at me through the shop's dressing mirror and makes fun of me. The boyo pushes me aside and monopolizes the view; he looks quite ridiculous in some of the outfits with his paunchy stomach and slightly bent posture. Somehow he keeps me from seeing how great I look in some of the new clothing.

I had been bothered in the recent past by this stranger when his shadow crossed mine as I tapped my cane through the sterile corridors. His flowers covered my bouquet as I placed mine along a sleeping white-sheeted form coupled with tubes and wires. The stranger's tears and mournful prayers were mingled with mine as we walked the long road to the final resting-place. He is still near me during the lonely and forlorn hours.

Travel is needed for the soul; the time is now. Well, today I had the suspicion that this elder couldn't be with me in my preparations, but I am wrong. There I sit in an automatic photo booth getting my picture taken for a new passport when he rudely jumps in front of the lens when the camera shutter clicks in the flash of lights. There on the photos is a snap of this elder with the weariness of the passing years etched on his wrinkled features.

.

The house is now quiet; all is still. The rocking chair stands aside in the living room motionless, its cushions shaped in form and frayed in usage. The stranger is gone.

Copyright © Norman A. Rubin 2003