When I look into the mirror, I see a pale face, with hazel eyes staring at my own. A scraggly red beard, hence the pale face, bleeds the light from the surrounding room. Small brown dots freckle my arms and shoulders, blonde hairs almost invisible over the dots. I am young, in the prime of my life. I see the adventure of a fresh new day reflected in my eyes.
I continue staring into the reflective depths of the mirror. I see pine trees lining the backyard, pine cones littering the yard. Georgia heat shimmers and bends off the surface of my mirror. I can hear the twang of country music, the thwang of a sharp Southern accent. My mom has come home, and the smells and sounds of dinner waft through the small, cozy house.
More comes and stands in my mirror. Memories of my family, now long gone, remind me of where I came from. My grandmother stands behind me, smiling as she shows me where my life has been and where it will go.
As I delve deeper into the mirror, everything is laid bare. My dad sits in his Sunday best, praying at the head of the table. My mom flutters around the house, making sure everything is in order, everything is in its place. I'd forgotten how I missed the routine, until the mirror shows me once again how it was.
Then, far away from where I thought I would end, the mirror shows me subtleties that I hadn't noticed before, ideas not in my head until I grew up. My school is half and half: half African-American, half white. I grow up with friends who look different from me, and hear that they are different. I see dark skin, darker than the casper pale skin I have grown to accept as unchangeable. My parents reflections speak to me in the mirror, telling me that I am better than those people, the ones from the literal other side of the tracks.
In the reflection, I can see my family, all together, all laughing, feeling safe based on what they look like and how society views them. I am one of them, but I see something different: an new reflection, a new thought bubble. I am white, yes, and that comes with privileges I never knew existed as a child. But in my mirror, I can make whatever is right reflect back. I see the differences, I sometimes participate in the encouragements of those differences, but I know that they are not right. I can fix them.
I am not as familiar with where my ancestors are from as I am with how my family raised me. How they taught me to think, to act, to view the world, and that is the most powerful influence I have. Even if I am not sure what to think, how to act, or how to look at the world, there is that reflection in the mirror that shows me how my family does it. Maybe I don't agree, but at least I know they're there.
Rikki, I enjoyed your reflection and I want to say that I don't see anything wrong with you as a person. I like the fact that even though you grew up with family influencing thoughts and beliefs about certain things, that you can still have your own mind and make whatever decisions you want to make for yourself. Although, sometimes family and friends differ, as well as beliefs and challenges, your are blessed to have them in place in your life. I also enjoyed the imagery you use in your reflection, your grandmother standing behind you in the mirror reminding you of your past and future, that's good stuff man! :)
ReplyDeleteRikki, I really enjoyed this piece. I also had a hard time talking about my background. As I've grown up, I've been made very aware of my Peruvian background, but other parts of my family history have been lost somewhere. I can also admit that there are a lot of pieces of my ethnicity that remain a mystery to me.
ReplyDeleteEven so, our faces show evidence of both home and family. I like the way you make piece with those part of that history that don't resonate with you or feel close anymore (if they ever did). I've come to believe that it's very difficult--if not impossible--to escape the place and the family we were once a part of.
Rikki, I really enjoyed how you wrote this piece as kind of a before and after. It's amazing how as children we can believe one thing, because of various influences and ignorance, but then become introduced to the reality of making our own choices as we grow up. I didn't grow up in the south, but can also identify with the smell of my mom's cooking on a summer evening, even if that seems like it happened so long ago. The influence of your grandmother, as well, was great to see. I have always respected my grandparents, and am encouraged by the obstacles they had to overcome to get where they did.
ReplyDeleteRikki, I appreciate your willingness to embrace the complexity of your family, the gifts they gave you, who they are even if you have come to see some things differently. Good detail and honest wrestling help your reader connect.
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