When I was little I lived apart from my mom and I missed her something awful. But she told me she always knew what I was up to, because she had a magic mirror. She knew if I had made my bed that day. Or if I got a good grade. Or made a friend.
I’ll tell you, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that magic mirror. I had so many questions! Imagine, all the things I would learn about the world? All the people I could spy on! All the secrets I would uncover! But each time I’d finally see my mom, I’d ask, “where, where, where is it?” And she’d go, “oh, man, what did I do with it? Where did I put it?” Or she’d say, “Your grandmother has it, because you are with me now, and that way she can keep track of what’s going on with you.”
The magic mirror became my Santa Clause. My tooth fairy.
It became something I held on to even after I grew up and learned that my babushka, my grandmother who raised me, was the one who shared all the details of my days with my mom. Of course I was really upset when I found out. I’ve been had!
Still. I will never forget this thing my mom did for me – this story she left me with. I am not sure I would have even become a writer, if I didn’t have my magic mirror.
In late November 2009 my agent suggested I start something on blogger or wordpress, or anywhere. A conversation. A virtual calling card. It seemed fitting to name my new blog after this great legend of my childhood.
Now, two years later, I am still amazed each time I read someone’s comment. Each time, it feels like magic. The fact that there are people out there whom I have never met, but whom I can see, can hear, can understand, can know, through a magic mirror.
Cheers, guys! And happy birthday, Magic Mirror 🙂
Katiaesque 
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