I stand at 4ft 4in tall on a plastic gray stool in front of the marble bathroom sink looking straight at my own reflection.
It was a loud and busy morning. Mom getting our clothes ready, dad taking his time putting his clothes on and joining me at the sink to brush his teeth.
As I stand there admiring my reflection I ask my dad, “how come I can only see my reflection in the mirror, but I can’t see myself when you’re looking at me?”
I became so stubborn. Stubborn because I was so naive.
He wiped the residue off of his mouth with the tan hand towel after brushing his teeth and told me, “I don’t know. But that’s a good question.” And walked away.
I was so amazed that he said that.
I went back to look at myself again to question my own existence.
A Note:
With this piece, as a young child I always wondered why I couldn’t see myself besides my reflection. As silly as that sounds, yes. Maybe I’m narcissistic or something, but that’s always been my wonder. Like, I wonder if anyone has ever had that thought too? To be able to watch oneself act. It’s something I still wonder about to this day.
It could also be my perception on things and how young I use to be. How I wanted to see myself from others people point of view, but more about seeing myself from my own view rather than someone else’s.
