Muriel’s Metamorphosis


photo by my Chandra

Last night, I went to bed. I was me. My ordinary self. All was well. I snuggled into a comfortable space and took a deep breath. It had been a busy day. I turned the radio on. I like to listen to it when I go to sleep. All was set for an ordinary night’s sleep. Ahhh….

Muriel, probably 19:20 yrs. old

The night before

The next day I awoke. What happened? Where were my arms? They were around here somewhere. I opened my eyes and looked around. Ah, there they were. They reluctantly moved over, obviously still tired. They had been dancing.


The arms had been dancing

I tried to place those arms where they belonged. One ought to be able to do that. But it isn’t that simple. There is a right arm and a left arm. The flesh had been firm the night before. But, if there had been a breeze in my room, these began to look like they would flap about.

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka, why would he visit me????

I couldn’t stop there. I needed my legs. They were here when I went to bed. This was getting too weird. Was Kafka visiting me from his grave? And why? I looked around. There were a few sets of legs to choose from. They just lay there waiting for an invitation to join me. I don’t usually give invitations before breakfast, but this was an unusual occasion, so I chose a pair.

‘Would you two legs kindly move over and join me?’ I asked tentatively. Was that MY voice????

They looked around doubtfully and conferred before making a final decision. Since no one better was hanging around, the two closest to me decided I was the best they could do at the moment. Where these legs will go tomorrow, I have no idea. Be aware. They may choose your bed instead….

Just last night, I was young and strong. I felt invincible. My skin was smooth. I had no wrinkles. After those legs settled down I dragged my new body (including arms) out of bed to wash my face.

old woman in mirror

The strange lady in my mirror…

There was this strange lady in my mirror who had never been there before. Who was she? And why was she hanging out in my bathroom? Didn’t she have a place of her own to wash up in the morning? Poor thing. One can’t throw an old lady out so early in the day — before breakfast yet.

I dragged that old woman into the kitchen with me. What else could I do? I prepared enough coffee and toast for both of us. What would you have me do? Perhaps I made a mistake because now she won’t leave. She keeps hanging around and her face looks at me from every mirror in my apartment.

gray hair and old glasses. jpg

She’s opinionated

However, there is one compensation. I’m never without company. Sometimes she even has interesting things to tell me when we chat. She’s kind of opinionated.



14 thoughts on “Muriel’s Metamorphosis

  1. There’s some wacky, older chick hanging around in MY mirror these days TOO! I keep expecting to see my young, beautiful, athletic, confident self there, but instead this dumpy, grey-haired, droopy-eyed, out-of-shape dame is always blocking the view!

  2. We all have a similar feeling when we look in the mirror. Only you as a great writer can describe that feeling. The very young who have not experienced it yet will eventually join the club. It only takes one new wrinkle or one sleepy arm on arising to become a member. The answer to not joining the club is: Don’t look in the mirror. Wash your face with your eyes closed and let your imagination take over. There are folks at 30 who are “old” and folks at 90 that are “young. The right attitude about aging is what counts. Muriel, you have the right attitude. That is why you are special. Great blog.

  3. I know it is upsetting to have to deal with a stranger in your home but you should let her pay half the rent , utilities and food. I don’t know if you have a leg to stand on in a court of law though.

  4. Great piece of writing, Muriel. I am beginning to see the same lady slowly creeping into my mirror. Whenever I see her I decide to be active and not let her take over my life, not just yet!

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