By Louie Ferrera

When you walk into our house one of the first things you notice is a unique looking mirror hanging on the right side wall of the entryway. The frame is about 1’x 2’, sparkly green with seashells and starfish painted around the border. It comes to a stylish point at the top much like the minaret of a mosque. The actual mirror is just 8”x 10”. It’s through this small looking glass that I can literally trace the growth of our son Sam.

Carol and I have lived here since 2002, it’s the first home we bought. Our two children were born just a few miles away in the hospital at Kaiser. We brought them here in their car carriers, walked past the mirror and into their bedroom, gently laying them down in their crib for the first nap in their new home. Our kids are 18 now and have lived here their entire lives. Nothing inside our house is the same as it was on that day except for that mirror. It still hangs in the exact same spot.

For some reason the mirror got to be a “thing” with me and Sam. When he was an infant, then a toddler, I’d hold him close to me with our cheeks touching and together we’d gaze into the mirror. In the beginning it was so surreal that I had become a dad at an age (47) when many parents are preparing to send their kids off to college. For me, our reflection in this mirror was concrete proof that fatherhood was indeed upon me. I couldn’t help staring, it was so amazing!

Sam continued to grow, his coos and gurgles gradually becoming words. I’d hold him before the mirror, bounce us up and down and sing, “Dad and Sam time, dad and Sam time” in a happy little melody that I made up. Sometimes, I’d move him out of the frame and sing in Spanish, “No mas Sam time…”, then I’d take a turn “disappearing”. We would both just laugh and laugh.

As Sam grew the soft features of childhood gradually gave way to adolescence and now young adulthood. The bigger he got, the more difficult it became for me to lift him up and perform our little number in front of the mirror. However, I soldiered on as long as I could. I’m not sure when I gave it up or how old Sam was when we stopped but I probably came to the realization that a hernia or busted back were too high a price to pay.

This mirror is a microcosm of watching our kids grow. If there had been a recording devise inside it, what a wonderful tale it would tell. There are so many milestones, so many firsts. Children move from one stage to the another in a fluid life dance, endings and beginnings blurring together into this crazy and beautiful mosaic that we call life.

A while ago it became official: Sam is now taller than me. I can still stand straight, look directly into the mirror and see my face fully reflected but in order to get Sam into the framer, he’s got to bend his neck and we’ve both got to scrunch in real close.

Watching Sam grow is bittersweet. I’m filled alternately with pride and sadness. He’s becoming more and more independent, working a full time job and preparing for college in the fall. He and I have a close and loving relationship and I know that as he continues to move forward in life that there will always be, in one form or another, room for a little “dad and Sam time”.