I gaze about the shop. Truly the old man has disappeared. I wonder if I should leave. After my conduct I’m surprised the old man left, instead of asking me to go. I can be so very contrary. It Is an awful state.

I get up from my chair and search for the spectacles. The least I can do is return them to the cursed box. I hope they are not broken. I look about the floor where they might have crashed, but find nothing. Then I search where I think they might be, yet know they cannot be. All to no avail. I cannot leave the shop without replacing the spectacles.

The bell at the door jingles. It is the young man, the owner of the shop. I should hide myself. A ridiculous thought, but one I consider fleetingly. Hide indeed. I sigh deeply and turn fully to look at him so I can tell him what I have done.

He smiles when he sees me. He won’t be smiling long. I smile back.

He walks over to the far counter where I have concluded my worthless search. I wonder what to say.

“I found these spectacles,” he says, in a humorous tone, and then laughs pleasantly. “Would you mind if I return them to the box? I think they are lonely.” He laughs again, and places them within.

“I was going to explain that, though I’m not sure how that might have sounded.”

“No explanation is needed. I understand. Introspection is not easy. I marvel at your tenacity. You have stayed the course, many have not.”

I like this young fellow. No wonder he is successful. His manner is easy and congenial, unlike my own. His kindness is my encouragement. Perhaps my quest is not over.

“If you would like, the last spectacles are yours yet to try.”

“This has become much more than a visit to an optical shop to seek perfect spectacles. It is as if though, in this search, I am creating a new me. Is it not so?”

“The shop, the spectacles and the looking-glass each have their purpose, as do all things in life. This journey you yourself called forth.”

“It appears so, though I had no thought but to see more clearly.

“Life is a journey, is it not? It reveals the traveler. Never is the journey void of the experiences one calls forth. Every experience serves the traveler, thought at the time he may think it not so, yet truly it is so.”

“That may well be. Yet it is hard to bear. There is much pain in life, and yes, pleasure too. The spectacles have been more pain than pleasure. And if I again place them before my eyes, what have they yet in store for me? Another adventure to show myself, even a disgrace in my own eyes? Of this I have had enough. Yes, I have experienced. Yes, I have learned. But in truth, I wonder if the pain is worth the price, for surely a look at oneself is ever hard to bear.”

“It will be as you decide.”

“I will think upon it, if you please. And may I ask, what of the old man? I did not mean to turn him away. I was distraught.”

“He is not far. And he, like myself, knows the course and its trials, thus there is no offense, and no judgment. And who knows (for I know not) if he will yet appear again.”

“I will sit again and face the looking-glass and will see what the last spectacles bring to fruition. I can do no less, seeing how far this has come.”

“Yes, you will see indeed that which you yourself bring about in the looking-glass. Be not surprised at your doings which will be revealed, for they are yours and yours alone.”

At the precise conclusion of those words, the bell jingles at the door. I look. It opens, but no one enters. I turn towards the young man. He is gone. The bell jingles again. I again turn towards the door. It is closing, but there is no one to see, not at the door, nor in the shop. I am alone.

It’s just as well. Ever are we alone in life, though yet surrounded by all that is life. And so this, my last journey, will prove my point. And with that said, I sit again in front of the box at the table. It was then that I notice the box is closed.

I quickly look for the old man (out of habit I suppose). Yet I know he will not be there. Shall I touch the lid? What can happen? What can happen indeed.

Without another thought to dissuade me I press the lid upon the spot. I jump, just a little, as it opens.

I quickly turn away from the box. No need to set it off before it fully opens. I count to three and turn around and look into the looking-glass. Well…I thought I would be looking into the looking-glass, but there is no looking-glass. And there are no spectacles.

The box is empty, empty except for an envelope. I look at it and cock my head a little to read the writing upon it. I certainly will not reach into the box and actually touch it. I squint my eyes to make it out. I squint a little more and can barely read the single word upon the envelope. It is my name. I am reading my name. It is addressed to me. Cautiously, very slowly and carefully I reach for it and touch it quickly and pull back just as quick. Nothing happens. I touch it again with just my fingertip. My finger is intact. I reach in and turn it over delicately. The envelope is unsealed. And then, summoning my courage, I pick it up quickly and remove it from the box.

I turn the envelope and lift the flap. I pull out the letter and unfold it and read:

Dear me,

I write this letter to my future-self, when I will be aged. It is a list of accomplishments I wish to pursue.

I pause my reading. I reflect back, but recall writing no such letter to myself.

Suddenly the old man appears at my side and says, “That’s because you haven’t written it yet.”

“You’re back! What are you saying? How can I be reading a letter I did not yet write?”

“Look into the looking-glass and you will see.”

“But the looking-glass has disappeared, as have the spectacles.” I turn and point at the box. To my surprise (I should not have been surprised) the looking-glass and the spectacles are there, except for one pair. I lift my eyes to glance briefly into the looking-glass. I am shocked, to see therein, me, me as I had been at fifteen years of age.

This is getting quite ridiculous I was about to say to the old man, but before the words can leave my mouth I am pulled through the looking glass and find myself in my room, in my house as it had been in the days of my youth. I am sitting at my old desk, writing a letter.

I hear a familiar voice. It is my mother calling me to supper. She has been dead many years. This is marvelous. I get up from my desk and walk down the hall towards the dining area. I hear the voices of my family in my youth. Will they recognize me? I have not seen a one of them in nearly fifty years. I enter the dining area. They are all there.

I look at my mother and father and at my brother and sisters. I walk to each of them and hug them thoroughly and tell them how overjoyed I am to see them again. They look at me very strange, like I am acting quite queer and out of character.

My mother says to me, rather sternly, “Do not neglect the dishes this evening, as you did last evening.”

I laugh in wonderment at her words.

My father asks me, “What humor is this?”

I do not know how to answer. My sister looks at me in a peculiar fashion and says, “I see you visited the optical shop. Your spectacles look quite becoming. I think they are perfect for you.”

I have no inkling I am wearing spectacles. I leave the dining room quickly, pulling off the spectacles as I run down the hall to my room. I stand before the mirror in my room. I am fifteen again. I quickly put on the spectacles and look again into the mirror. I am yet fifteen. I take the spectacles off again and look into the mirror. No change. I am fifteen.

I hear my mother outside my door. “Are you alright?” she asks.

“Yes, “I answer “I will be but a moment.”

“Are your new spectacles giving you a fit? They will do that on occasion.”

“No, they are quite perfect, really.”

I look again into the mirror on my wall. Truly, I am fifteen, and then appears the old man in the mirror, smiling and waving. I smile and return his wave, and then he slowly fades and disappears. I sigh, and think, and walk back towards the dining area to my family.

I am young.....not old. It was but a dream, or was it. How can this be? I have memories of a whole life, but am yet fifteen (and have those memories as well). Was it my future, or my past, or both? I cannot tell. I do not know. I am perplexed.

If a dream, I have learned much, and at a tender age, and am the wiser for it. If not a dream (what but a dream could it have been)?

I shall be more careful with my thoughts, not as rash with my opinions and not as quick in judgment. Surely my life will be less painful and more joyful. I will a blessing, not a curse. After all, has not my vision of things improved, is it not more clear, giving a more perfect view, with less distortion? Yes! I think I have found the perfect spectacles...and at such a young age.....I think.