Reflection of the World Around Me
I sit on the corner of the mantlepiece and watch the mellow house-owners dance across the living room floor. A broad-shouldered, tall, young man with his arm wrapped around a stunning lady with blonde hair in curls that linger on her shoulders. They are the stars of this spectacle tonight. Her dark green dress swiped the luxurious red carpet as her feet moved along to the gentle music. The couple waltz past me, creating elegant shadows that follow their every move. As the music from the record player sings, the couple continue to sway to its melody. Its symphony guiding them through the night.
Looking away from the handsome pair, I catch a glimpse of a small figurine in the square, ornated mirror. She was a regular-sized, gleaming sculpture. Her sleek, black hair cascading down her pale shoulders are her main possession of beauty, which compliments her majestic, mahogany dress. The figurine had been complimented many times on her looks, but no one reached out to hold her; that is what hurt her the most. All she wanted was to be held like a doll, one which could change outfits every day and follow her owner's life. She forever lies in her sitting position with a hand resting on her cheek. The flames from the blazing hearth lick her with its heat and the dancing lovers turn into a blur as the night goes on.
The image is nothing new to what I see daily yet there is a hint of melancholy this time. I have seen many sentimental dances before from these people, but I dream of being able to run through a field in a summer dress, I dream of smelling the lilies of the valley and entering a bookstore in winter. I would trade my soul to the devil for a life of a little girl. In reality, Ispend my days sitting on my pedestal waiting for attention. My whole existence is to serve as an object, how dehumanising! If I were a little girl, I could experience love, heartbreak, sadness, and anger.
Night rolls around the corner as the grandfather clock strikes 7pm. The dancers stalk out of the living room, I suppose because they are tired. The moon rises and brings along its star friends that hang in the deep blue sky. Their twinkling lights flicker through the lace curtains, which are open. They comfort me in my darkest moments and their beauty make me forget everything for a moment. I wish I could stare at the sky for a lifetime because the sun is too harsh unlike the delicate moon that embraces me. Although I bear no facial features, I go to sleep dreaming of flower fields and towering willows.
The next morning, I awake to see a new figurine in the morning beside me on the opposite end of the mantlepiece. This time it is for real, not just me in the mirror. I feel a range of emotions flash within a second as I behold the new resident next to me. She is bold and very tall as she stands high above me. However, that is the only difference. Besides that, she is an exact copy of me! Maybe it was the fact I had only woken up and was hallucinating that a new statue appeared to look like me. She too had a blank face adorned with no facial expression and an exact replica of her own mahogany dress. The similarities shook me, and I sat in awe of myself. When had this newcomer arrived? And why does she look like me?
Suddenly, I was put here by a young lady with the blondest hair I had ever seen. The marble mantlepiece shone in the sunlight, giving off a blinding glare. I take in my surroundings as the lady places me among the other ornaments. There was a flower vase with lovely lavenders thriving in the newfound sunlight, multiple photo frames with special memories captured in each one and a strikingly similar figurine to me. The figurine was asleep as I observed her. She was small in contrast to me, but the odd thing was that she looked exactly like me! I had never seen anything quite like it! Besides that, everything else in the room seemed ordinary; a huge sofa with matching lilac pillows sat in the middle of the room; a glass coffee table with empty wine glasses and white plates left on it; a large, curved window stood at the opposite end of the doorway with lace curtains hugging its frame. I supposed that this new home was owned by people with a more than comfortable income. With a new companion by my side, I should have a good new life here. Though perhaps I should wait until she awakes.
I have been getting on well with my new companion. Although we cannot communicate normally as humans do, we are able to speak to each other regardless, almost spiritually. Our friendship is more like a sisterhood as we understand each other just from the slightest emotion. Even though we have not been together for a full day I would not imagine leaving her. The feeling was similar to what people describe meeting your soulmate is like. It is almost as if I have known her all my life and not for a few hours. There is no awkwardness, a comfortable silence fills the air instead. Life would be nothing without her, she has completed me. This is what I was yearning all my life, another part of me lost but now connected. I imagine days passing and not minding because I have someone near.
Days do pass and soon enough it has been six months since my new sister had arrived. Nowadays, I spend all my time talking to her, instead of my usual brooding. The couple continue to hold parties and dance many more times in the living room since that day, but I do not look in jealousy any more. I am glad to finally leave my lonely days behind and I start to enjoy the company of others. I start to learn about the world around me, and I start to learn about myself. I have wondered what type of friend I would be. I learn that I can be an incredibly good friend, but I have also learned that I can be an unbelievably bad friend. I learn every day now and that is what makes life much more enjoyable. I would not mind spending eternity like this, basking in this new happiness I have been blessed with, with my new sister.
“Sister?”
“Where are you?”
“Please come back”
There is not a day I do not think about you. You are gone and I am alone again. I am going to have to get used to this. I am going to have to learn to be alone. I am going to have to learn to live with my loneliness. I am going to have to learn to be happy. I am going to have to learn to be content. I am going to have to learn to be strong. I am going to have to learn to be brave. I am going to have to learn to be patient. I am going to have to learn to...
I miss you. I will never forget the day you left me. The day when I awoke to find you gone. I do not know where you are, sister. I imagine you travelling to and living on the opposite end of the globe or ending up on those streets, homeless. Every night I dream of you standing next to me, all those times we had together. We shared the view of the living room atop the marble mantlepiece that shone in the morning sunlight. How the lavender flowers sparkled a deep purple and the photo frames stood in its specific arrangement.
It has been exactly twenty-six days since you left. I try to be strong; I really do but it is hard. Harder than you would imagine. I believe that part of me died when you left, and I believe that happened to you too. Sometimes I like to believe the stories you used to tell me, you know, the one where you imaged us being two lost sister souls that made these beautiful, lady figurines home. You believed that we were once lovely twins that tragically died and had since been reunited in the afterlife. Your theory explained why we looked identical. Even so, these weeks make me feel as if I am in an eternal limbo. My heart aches and aches and aches...
Dear sister, I wonder where you are right now. It has been fifty-nine days since you were last here. Your spot has been empty ever since and has recently started gathering dust, it saddens me. I hear the owners talk about moving house. There are brown boxes starting to appear on the living room floor and they talk of throwing away some things. Is this what happened to you? Did you get thrown out too? Will that happen to me? Maybe you are in a box somewhere, and maybe I will meet you in a box. Imagine if you were shipped off somewhere, somewhere exotic and tropical or somewhere frozen and windy.
Dear sister, a week has passed since I last spoke to you. The living room is quite empty now. I am in one of the boxes I talked about, and it is cramped. I am pressed up against some blankets for my safety and other glass ornaments. I know you will not be but I hope to see you in the next house. I like to dream the new home is quite beautiful, a house in the countryside or by a forest, somewhere secluded. Somewhere where in winter it snows and where summers last long. I have not gotten over your disappearance, but I manage. I have not forgotten what you meant to me and wish to keep it that way. I still remember the day I first reunited with you and how you looked. Hold on...I hear the movers van outside. May this will be a new beginning. I can only hope so, sister.
Goodbye, my dear sister...
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