She got up from the chair and walked to the mirror. A sagging, lined face topped with frizzy blond hair stared back at her. Old! That’s what the face was telling her. She was an old woman, over the hill, almost ready for the old folks’ home.
Sighing, she turned from the mirror and went into the yard to pick up her hometown newspaper. Glaring headlines stared up at her. More corruption in political offices, this time in the mayor’s office, for goodness sake. What a shame that so much crime, so much downright meanness had hit her pretty little town. It didn’t used to be that way.
She grew up in the 1950s. Things were different then. People meant what they told you. Handshakes were as good as a contract. She and everybody else in town never bothered to lock their doors. Hayrides, weiner roasts after church on Sunday nights, walking home from school with never a thought of danger. These were the things of her teenage years.
But now? Well, now things were entirely different. You didn’t know who to trust any more and she had installed a doorbell camera and always locked her doors.
Pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down in her recliner, she read the latest news stories. The paper was beginning to resemble a tell-all, a tattletale rag and all the news seemed to be bad. It downright made her mad. What had happened to peoples’ minds and hearts? Where had all the goodness and trustworthiness gone? She knew plenty of decent, kind people. Really, the town was full of them, but where were they? They seemed to be all in hiding, afraid to say anything against the powerful political people, just keeping their heads down and trying to get along. She understood that. She valued peace as much as anybody, but peace at what price?
Fuming, she put the paper down. Carrying her empty cup to the kitchen, she passed the mirror again. Glancing in, she saw the same old woman, but this woman had fire in her eyes and a decided tilt to her chin. Gazing at herself, she suddenly felt ashamed. Who was she to complain and criticize when she did nothing about the state of things? She, like everyone else in town, just tried not to rock the boat and silently hope that things got better.
Looking around at her pink 1950s kitchen, unchanged for decades, she made a decision. If she remembered trustworthiness in political offices and not being afraid to walk alone in her home town, she should do something about it. Maybe, in the time she had left on earth, she could make things better. The mayor! Who would ever have thought. There’d have to be another election and she hoped to goodness this time the town would elect a truly trustworthy person. Why, if she were a bit braver, she’d run for that office herself.
Reaching under the sink for a pink trash bag, she made a decision. Well, why not? She knew as much about being a mayor as the next person. The mayor’s office was a small job, true, but it was important and then, who knew? Maybe she would become well known enough to run for state government or the governor’s office or…
Look out, White House! she thought. Make room for a 1950s woman. I just may be heading your way.
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