Alonzo’s Mirror (7)

by cheri block

Alonzo saw, in his mirror, a young virile dragon with bright golden eyes, orbs surrounded by firm blue skin and symmetrical scales.  Not a blemish on his nose, not a scar on his cheek, not a bag under an eye did he see in that reflective moment.

He stepped back from the mirror and surveyed his body.

His physique too, looked as if he weren’t over 50 years old. The arch in his back still taut, the grip of his talons still intense, the muscles in his haunches still able to launch him skyward in a moment’s notice.

In his magnificent mind’s golden eye, staying with this moment, he had led his young band of dragons to a Purple Ribbon in the Air Show over Copenhagen just a few years ago.

His spirit, at this moment of recall, surged outside of reality, inadvertently and reflexively generating a fire moment deep within his lungs: in his ecstasy, he singed his mirror with an orange blast of heat that left all reflective glass covered with soot and steam.

Oh goodness, the cleaning lady is going to kill me, Alonzo sighed, weak from all the energy expended.

He picked up his terry towel from the floor and blotted the mirror clear, so he could finish combing what was left of his hair.

There again, in the mirror, he faced himself: an old but sagacious dragon, full of creative ideas and meaningful history, of exciting debuts and deep bows, of military duty and of familial resolve.

He waxed philosophic, tilting his head and drawing in his limbs, close to his body.

Suddenly he felt a buzz in his ear.

Alonzo, come to breakfast, old chap, my liege. The cook has prepared a waffle-pancake-omelet for the residents that is sure to make you feel like a kid again, Edmund dictated in that buzzy high-pitched mini-screech of his.

Alonzo slipped his friendship ring on, buttoned his vest, tucked in his hankie, and two-stepped out the door and just for good measure, singed the mirror once again.

About Cheri

Writer, photograph, artist, mother, grandmother and wife.
This entry was posted in My fiction, The Dragon in the Lobby: a fairytale about Assisted Living and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

23 Responses to Alonzo’s Mirror (7)

  1. Richard says:

    Have you got the recipe for the waffle-pancake-omelet? I’d like to try some.

  2. sledpress says:

    Oh, I love the notion of a dragon air show over Copenhagen… the mermaid could wave to them…

  3. Cheri says:

    Thanks for reading.

  4. Brighid says:

    Enamoured of Alonzo am I.

  5. Phil says:

    Keep ’em coming.

    Did Alonzo have his genesis in *this song?*.

    • Cheri says:

      Really? I have lots of material (sadly/happily/emotionally) to work with, so this little thread (as AK would call it) has been fun in a therapeutic way. [swallows, takes another sip of hot coffee, bucks up, keeps typing…]

      Funny you should mention Puff. No, Alonzo didn’t have a genesis in that song, but I was reminded of it when I watched that PBS John Denver show several weeks ago.

      Always glad to hear from you, Phil. Loved your Chihuahua story…that image of that big man with the little dog…and your squirrel story (although I didn’t know what to say in response…other than chirp, chirp, annoying repetitive chirp…)

  6. wkkortas says:

    See, that’s why Saint George had to slay the dragon–bunch of narcissists, the whole lot of ’em.

  7. Richard says:

    As I read and re-read this piece for every turn of phrase, for the economy of words, for its universal appeal, for the nuances and insights, for the colour and the imagery I can only echo Phil: Keep ’em coming

    • Cheri says:

      Well! First of all, the above-written sentence (despite its flattering content) is marvelous and rhythmic. Did you use language like that when you wrote your briefs?

      You have encouraged me here throughout the years; I take it most seriously to heart.

      Will you forgive me for being so abrupt last January?

      • Richard says:

        Forgive? Now you have got me worried – and searching my own conscience! 🙂

      • Richard says:

        If it is forgiveness you seek, of course I forgive you, but I do not know what for. More to the point, do you forgive me?

        Last Christmas, you sent me in search of myself. I went into retreat. The search goes on. You know where to look. That is pleasantly worrying.

  8. Cheri says:

    Every time I begin a new chapter, my heart hopes for new insight. With every chapter.
    March on!

  9. Cheri says:

    Seems to me we were having a conversation about philosophy and religion. I tired of the subjects and cut you off.

    The life experience, with its highs and lows, twists and turns, and light and dark, compels us to search, right?

    The more active the mind, the greater the search.

  10. Cheri says:

    What am I supposed to forgive you for?
    I have such a short memory. 🙂

  11. Cheri says:

    How so? What does Knitshy have to do with this discussion, Richard?

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