Both Sides of a Flash Card

I look at your reflection in our vanity mirror as I braid your hair.
Your eyes look back at mine,
And I wonder…

How in 20 minutes, when we sit down to do our daily math,
You on one side of the flash card, me on the other.
Who is reflecting whom as we learn together?

I think about you gliding beside me,
our wrist guards holding each other hand in hand.
The wheels on your skates lighting up as they roll,
your pink knee pads completely covered in scruffs.
How you fall, but you laugh.
The fear of falling, faded.

I remember our evenings designing our jackets in our notebooks together.
Creative joy spread across your face like face paint.
How you meticulously place your Zelda colors across my template.
Your ideas entirely yours, and somehow still familiar.

I saw you yesterday sitting at your computer in your free time.
Making your online store just right.
Designing your “God is good” t shirt.
The joy in showing me your shop.
I glanced at my pink computer in the other corner of the room,
House of Stardust strung across my screen.
And then I understood.

Your eyes find mine in the reflection as I finish your second braid,
and I think to myself,
maybe that’s what you’ve been giving me all along.

A mirror that shows not only my reflection,
but also the parts of me still waiting to grow.

Alexis Rodriguez
Written June 24th 2026