Through the Mirror

by Ingrid Prohaska


Walking through the life
the mirror always in front of me
no view into the future
only a look into a reflection of the past.

Du und ich - ich und Du
the only thing between us is the mirror.

Just a step through the mirror
is all I have to do
landing in the present
of the other side
the future lies in front of me.

Du und ich - ich und Du
will be one right there.

Just a step through the mirror
is all I have to do
finding more I can imagine,
even Jeanny’s* waiting here,
no need for desire anymore.

Du und ich - ich und Du
is one right now.

Just a step through the mirror
was all I had to do
which side is reality?

Die Zeit steht still.

You and I - I and you
eins sein right now.

* Special thanks to Falco and his “Jeanny”
Copyright © 2007 Ingrid Prohaska
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The Girl in the Mirror

by Ingrid Prohaska

Recently I was asked about my life history and that reminded me on a CV written in summer 2007. That time I was attending my first english lessons. We had to do homework and should write a CV about ourselves or a person we wanted to talk about. I decided to introduce my class "The Girl in the Mirror".

I can’t remember our first meeting, but I know I met her when she was about 4 years old. There was an invitation to a carnival festivity in kindergarten. She wanted to be “Pippi Langstrumpf”. Her mother dressed her, made those typical plaits and painted freckles into her face. She looked out of the mirror and – I was shocked – and she started crying, “No, no mum that’s not me!” I really felt strange about her look.

I know I met her at the age of 10. She had a new haircut. She looked at me out of the mirror I think a hundred times that day. I thought she was really good looking. I felt like she was looking like.

I met her again at the age of 13. Her face had become spotty. I felt mercy with her, but – I didn’t like her face. I couldn’t feel like she was looking like.

I met her again at the age of sweet 16. She had got her first kiss that night. I thought, “That is a kissed girl looking like?” I missed something in her eyes.

I met her again in the age of 22. She lived together with her boyfriend. She had started a serious life, had started to wear serious clothes and had a serious haircut. I didn’t like the woman in the mirror. I felt strange about the woman I saw.

She split up, she changed the job, she started to study, she moved the apartment. She was on holiday. When she looked out of the mirror I was pleased to see her. I felt like she was looking like.

She worked too much, she had a lot of stress, she missed time for herself, she missed love, she looked for happiness. She couldn’t find what she missed. The woman in the mirror looked old, had hard features, small dim eyes, her mouth was just a line. I couldn’t stand the woman in the mirror. I didn’t want to feel how she was looking like.

She quitted her job, she took up her study again, she started to enjoy life. She was 36. When I met her that time I said, “Hey Lady in the mirror you look better!”

About a Goodbye

by Ingrid Prohaska

Today is the anniversary of my mother's death and this story is about it. I thought a lot about if I should publish it, but for me that day is much more than the day my mother died. I think being so close to death was the most important happening in my life and since that day I have a new and for me a special view on living , loving and dying. For me started a new life that day. I will leave you now alone with my story. I hope you will enjoy reading it.

I want to tell you a story, a fascinating one, a story which is maybe hard to believe and maybe you will call me crazy, but maybe you will find a piece of hope, a piece of love.

It all started with my mother’s heart operation on 9th November 2006. It was a very bad day in fact, the operation wasn’t as successful as the doctors had expected. It was nearly midnight when I left the hospital, the words of the doctor still in my head, “She has a two percent chance at surviving the night.” But I wasn’t allowed to stay with her; they actually sent me home, but they promised to phone if her end should come.

I went to the underground, only a handful people were waiting for the last train. I walked along the platform when I heard my mother’s voice behind me somehow above, “Hallo Puppe,” she said, “was ist los?” And automatically I started telling her what the matter was. I told her all I knew about the operation, everything I did that day, to whom I spoke, where I had waited, when I had a meal, when I smoked a cigarette. I told her every detail.

That was the day when I started speaking to her. When I was with her in hospital - they had sent her into an artificial sleep - I spoke to her, I told her everything from outside, about my everyday, told her everything I saw in the moment, told her stories about our past, and I talked to her about our future plans. I was sure she understood my words. Sometimes she moved her closed eyes as if she wanted to answer.

But I also spoke to her when I was not with her nearly the entire day. I talked to her from the “Good morning” when I woke up till the “Sleep well and dream something beautiful” when I closed my eyes for the sleep.

Four weeks went by speaking to her all the time. But I never heard her voice again.