A Crisp Evening in November

 

He looked out the window at the traffic on the streets below. 9:00 PM, one week after he won it all.

He had just stepped out of the shower. Moving slowly but deliberately he straightened the soap dispenser on the sink, grabbed a hand towel from the rack, and cleared the fog from his vanity.

Donald caught his gaze in the mirror. He saw an old man looking back at him. Wrapped in a plain white towel, red from the hot shower, he took in his reflection.

He was weary. After days, weeks, months jet-setting around the country, speaking to Americans from all walks of life, he finally had a few days to gather his thoughts. As he looked in the mirror, he asked himself, “Why did you do this?”

Donald sat down to ponder for a moment while he cooled off. He looked around the bathroom. He looked past all of the luxury and comforts in the bathroom. He looked past the life he had spent half a century building for himself. He looked past everything, and thought of something greater.

After a few moments of reflection, he stood up to meet his gaze in the mirror once again. He looked himself squarely in the eyes. Hair undone, no TV make-up. No tailored suit or American flag pendant, no silk tie or cufflinks. Just him. Only Donald.

He had an answer. “For my father. For my family.” He stood back, and squinted into the mirror. He cocked his head to the side and said softly, “For my country.”

The sounds of the bustling city below rang through the cracked window. A cool breeze ran through the room, clearing out the steam.

“Honey, are you coming to bed?” Melania said gently, from the other room.

“Not tonight, dear.” President Trump looked in the mirror once more. “It’s time to get to work.”