Whispers and Wanderings

Claire and I were sitting in the kitchen when we heard the mirror fall that morning. It never reached the floor but slid from the wall and lodged itself behind the sofa, tilted and breathing, as if the house had changed its mind halfway through. The surface of the mirror didn’t shatter – it remained whole, held there at an awkward angle, reflecting only the narrow strip of the white wall it faced. The black glass beads that had once adorned it were fragmented and lay scattered like tiny jewels on the sofa cushion – never again to be whole. I didn’t know it then but, just like that mirror, my life was about to change forever. My Dad, already ill by then, was being cared for at home by my sisters. I had been there the night before, finishing my weekend shift beside him. It had been challenging; Dad wasn’t eating or drinking. He was distressed, and we had struggled to secure the medical support he needed in the days after his impromptu and somewhat surprising discharge from hospital. Afte...