Macie sat down in a cradle of Granny Willow’s roots and reached into her basket, taking out a mason jar the size of her head. She lifted it to the sun, and Mrs. Day shined through the blossoms of gems that reflected the Spring around her. Her favourite glass pebble was the colour of beating butterfly wings, and the shape of a fern sword.
She rummaged for the next item and took out a mirror she found in her sister’s room this morning. It was a sad little thing, the pewter on its back scratched and cracked, while the stress of trying to please its owner carved lines of premature wrinkles onto its reflective surface. That’s alright though; today she will make it feel pretty and happy again.
Macie propped the mirror against the roots so that it stood tall facing her. She winked at it before crossing her legs and using her knees as anchors for her skirt. There was a sound of the jar’s lid popping open, and gems spilling into the safety of Macie’s makeshift kangaroo pouch. She briefly searched her basket for the ever-elusive superglue and had to resort to tipping it upside down before finding it in between pockets of moss. Then it was time to pick the first gem to be glued onto Dalia’s mirror. It was not an easy task; each glass pebble had to be considered for the story it held. Macie picked one shaped like a pink button and glued it somewhere close to the middle of the mirror. Best place to start was with the nose, the favourite part of her face. She filled the rest in a daze, her hands picking gems without her knowing. Waning brown crescents for brows. Wells of blue drops formed her eyes. Yellow hues to reflect the strands of her hair.
She felt the mirror’s gratitude now that it didn’t need to reflect displeased faces any longer and then smiled at the image of herself. It was the truest image there could be, each part alive with the magic of her past.
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