the ceiling and secured itself in place. My reflection stared back at me. Except in the mirror I stood a few feet shorter and had chocolate on my shirt and a frown on my face. I stepped closer and looked into the eyes of my childhood self. She stared back into mine, deeply, like she were more than a reflection. I touched the mirror and placed my hand on her frizzy hair. She reached her hand up and touched my fingers. Her eyes penetrated the glass like our hands couldn’t. I wanted to hug her as her chest rose and fell rapidly. She clenched her eyes together, then opened them and stared back into me as a tear dripped down her face. I watched it turn red on the floor.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t respond. I knew she wouldn’t. She—or I—was four. The day I fell into Audrey’s birthday cake. My punishment was to eat the entire cake before I went to bed. I cried and suffered through it, even throwing up twice, and from that day on I stopped speaking to adults. Of course my poor manners infuriated Mother and Father even more. Eventually I got over it though. Took a few years of etiquette classes and some time with Blake for me to learn to be somewhat normal.
The reflection slid back into the ground and was replaced by another mirror. A reflection of me. Right now. I ignored it and continued walking until another mirror revealed another reflection that took me by surprise. Seven years old. Paint on my fingers. Tired, sad eyes. I wanted to surprise Mother and Father with a painting of the sunset over a beach. At night sometimes I heard them talking about how they always wished to see one together. Audrey stole the painting from me and claimed that she made it. They loved it, of course. Framed it and put it up in the hallway right where you come in the front door. The next day it was in pieces on the floor. I still had paint on my hands. I wasn’t allowed to come out of my room for three weeks, but this is actually a happy memory. It’s happy because that’s when I met Blake. I’ll never forget the first time he smiled at me from his bedroom window, only a few yards of grass from mine. We learned to speak to each other without using words and we never lost that ability.
The reflection disappeared. I continued walking, wondering what the purpose of the assignment could be. Watching my brain waves as I wander through my past? Gathering my precious memories right from my mind?
The thought concerned me, so I decided not to dwell on the images that popped up, but they began to speak and call out to me as I walked by them. My own voice begged me to stop and talk. It would be interesting to talk to a younger version of myself….
I stopped in front of a reflection I didn’t expect to see.
Audrey. Five years old. I’d never seen her cry before. Not until now. She reached her hand toward me and nearly tripped in the four-inch heels Mother made her wear, even as a child, to practice walking like a princess. I remember the clinking and clanking of shoes above me as Audrey had her daily princess sessions after school. I thought she loved it, but the image of her in the mirror didn’t seem thrilled about it. Her hand twisted toward me, begging me to grab on and help, then she disappeared.
I looked toward each end of the hall and no longer saw the door I came from. Both ends seemed to go on infinitely with no escape. I turned in a circle. My reflections did the same. Except for one. I walked toward it and waited for something to happen, then I swear I heard Red say, “This is your time for self-reflection. Use it wisely.”
Right.
I continued walking until another reflection made its presence known by calling my name. After taking in the details of my face, height, and clothing, I figured I was probably about fourteen.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” my reflection said.
“Are you ... um ... is there something you want to tell me?”
“No. Is there something you
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re going to be okay.”
She didn’t respond. I knew she wouldn’t. She—or I—was four. The day I fell into Audrey’s birthday cake. My punishment was to eat the entire cake before I went to bed. I cried and suffered through it, even throwing up twice, and from that day on I stopped speaking to adults. Of course my poor manners infuriated Mother and Father even more. Eventually I got over it though. Took a few years of etiquette classes and some time with Blake for me to learn to be somewhat normal.
The reflection slid back into the ground and was replaced by another mirror. A reflection of me. Right now. I ignored it and continued walking until another mirror revealed another reflection that took me by surprise. Seven years old. Paint on my fingers. Tired, sad eyes. I wanted to surprise Mother and Father with a painting of the sunset over a beach. At night sometimes I heard them talking about how they always wished to see one together. Audrey stole the painting from me and claimed that she made it. They loved it, of course. Framed it and put it up in the hallway right where you come in the front door. The next day it was in pieces on the floor. I still had paint on my hands. I wasn’t allowed to come out of my room for three weeks, but this is actually a happy memory. It’s happy because that’s when I met Blake. I’ll never forget the first time he smiled at me from his bedroom window, only a few yards of grass from mine. We learned to speak to each other without using words and we never lost that ability.
The reflection disappeared. I continued walking, wondering what the purpose of the assignment could be. Watching my brain waves as I wander through my past? Gathering my precious memories right from my mind?
The thought concerned me, so I decided not to dwell on the images that popped up, but they began to speak and call out to me as I walked by them. My own voice begged me to stop and talk. It would be interesting to talk to a younger version of myself….
I stopped in front of a reflection I didn’t expect to see.
Audrey. Five years old. I’d never seen her cry before. Not until now. She reached her hand toward me and nearly tripped in the four-inch heels Mother made her wear, even as a child, to practice walking like a princess. I remember the clinking and clanking of shoes above me as Audrey had her daily princess sessions after school. I thought she loved it, but the image of her in the mirror didn’t seem thrilled about it. Her hand twisted toward me, begging me to grab on and help, then she disappeared.
I looked toward each end of the hall and no longer saw the door I came from. Both ends seemed to go on infinitely with no escape. I turned in a circle. My reflections did the same. Except for one. I walked toward it and waited for something to happen, then I swear I heard Red say, “This is your time for self-reflection. Use it wisely.”
Right.
I continued walking until another reflection made its presence known by calling my name. After taking in the details of my face, height, and clothing, I figured I was probably about fourteen.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello,” my reflection said.
“Are you ... um ... is there something you want to tell me?”
“No. Is there something you
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