mirror, mirror

We have this mirror.  It's large, with an ornate frame.  It weighs over 100 lbs, I think.  Once part of Mr. Kenobi's grandparent's home, the mirror accompanied a dining room set we inherited just after we got married.  For better or worse, it is part of my life.

Truth be told, I don't love this mirror.  It's not my style.  Because of its weight and size, it can only go in certain places of our home.  I'd paint it or get rid of it, but it is a family heirloom.  You don't mess with an heirloom, right?

I've managed to make the mirror fit, sometimes better than others, with my decor.  When we moved here, I had Mr. Kenobi hang it above our fireplace.  On the mantel, I displayed the various pieces of crystal we received as wedding gifts.  With the sunlight sparkling off the glass and reflecting from the mirror, I started to like that mirror.

Then, on the 4th of July last year, we heard a great crash from the living room.  With no explanation, the mirror fell from its hardware, cascading every piece of crystal onto the tile and hardwood floors below.  We rushed in to see shattered crystal everywhere.  Thankfully, nobody was in the room, so only "stuff" was damaged.  Still, it was my stuff.  I liked that crystal.  I had hoped some of it might make heirlooms for my own family.  As we swept and vacuumed, I was sad at the loss of all of those irreplaceable pieces.  

The odd thing was, there were no pieces of mirror anywhere.  As Mr. Kenobi moved the frame from the hearth, we realized it was completely intact.  The mirror had survived, with hardly a scratch.  Grrrr....

We put the mirror in the office, waiting for new hardware.  And waited... and waited...

Because I waited for Mr. Kenobi to fix the mirror, and he didn't think of it (unless I "reminded" him), it never got done.  Eventually, I went out and bought hardware, installed it according to the directions, and quickly realized I am a weakling who didn't want to lift that thing over my head and hang it again.  So I waited for Mr. Kenobi to hang it.

And waited... and waited...

Today, I had waited enough.  I hauled the mirror out, lined up a step stool, and lifted the mirror, carefully, while huffing & puffing, to the mantel.  There, I fiddled with the wires, trying to keep both connected with the hooks.  My step stool was just a bit too short.  So, I lined up a sturdy chair and tried again. Once I finally got the mirror hung, I realized something I really, really, should have double-checked:  the wires were slightly too long.  The giant mirror set on the mantel, instead of hanging from the hooks.  Grrrrr, again.

So, I started to lift it, carefully, off the mantel.  I stepped back off the step stool - oh, yes - the step stool.  I wasn't standing on a step stool, anymore, was I?  No, I had traded that handy stool for a chair.  A chair with a back.  A back which, when slightly leaned against, went tipping backward.

As I fell, I had enough time to think, "Seriously?!?  This mirror is going to crash and break with me on top of it after all of this?!?"  My knee caps hit the floor first, one on the edge of the tile hearth, and the other firmly on the wood floor.   The mirror, held in my hands, crashed to the hearth, and the side of my head slammed into it as we landed in a heap.

You might have guessed it - the mirror is fine.  All except a giant smear where my ear & face careened against it.  I think my kneecaps are swollen twice their normal size, and my elbow is bruised.  As is my ego.  But the mirror was none the worse for its second fall from the mantel.  After laying on the floor and testing all of my joints for a while, I finally got up.   Again, I lifted the mirror to the mantel, but propped it against the wall.  I hope we do not have an earthquake tonight, as I've officially given up doing this myself and will wait for Mr. Kenobi to return tomorrow. 

If ever there was a reason to get rid of an heirloom, I think this mirror has earned its departure from my home.  On the other hand, it's starting to have its own unbreakable place in our family.