Today Claire is 22 years old. What an interesting mirror she is in my life! I look at her and see me, then turn to a mirror and see an old lady. I am puzzled by how that feels. My hair is turning gray, my step is slower, my strength is slowly diminishing. But when I watch her, I am young again, standing by the Damascus Gate, or racing to a class across campus, or staying up late to write a paper. Her whole life is still out there, waiting to be discovered. She is weighing her options and choosing her future. I am looking back, sorting through fading memories of what was once my future, but now is spent and past, wondering how I’ll ever read all the books on my shelves, or write all the words in my heart. My days are numbered, hers are numberless. I am the mother, she is the daughter, but we are the same, just separated by some years. I loved her the day she was born. I love her today, and I will love her for eternity.