Monday, January 24, 2011

I don't have to look in the mirror to know who she is

I round the corner to her room. The door is closed so I lightly push it open. I am blinded by light coming from the open windows. I look around for her and spot her sitting in a chair near a window. She smiles at me but goes back to sketching something on her pad. She hums softly to the music as I sit down on her blue and green silk bedspread. Her hair looks the same warm, auburn colour and her eyes are the same shocking blue-green. Her makeup looks natural as always; blended concealer, brown eyeliner, pale blush, brown mascara, and tan eyeshadow. She wears tight, jean shorts, a yellow tank top, and matching yellow Old- Navy flipflops, her usual summer attire. 

She feels my gaze and glances up. She smiles questioningly and then looks back to her notebook. She is sensitive, perceptive. She notices things other people don’t notice but she keeps them to herself if they aren’t particularly kind. I look around the room and see that it has changed. She likes to keep things fresh, new, and different. Her basket of soccer and lacross balls are now in the corner next to her extensive closet. Her trophies and medals from soccer, swimming, lacross, and dance have been rearranged. Her collection of snow globes has been moved to her tall dresser where they sit in neat rows, all shiny, free of dust. My eyes finally move to her desk where her many coloured pencils, sketchbooks, and notebooks lay. She has arranged the coloured pencils in rainbow order, one of her favourite symbols for happiness and hope.

I look at her sketchbook, wondering what she is drawing. She is sketching a calm pond surrounded by sand and grass, her own personal paradise. She is a nature girl who loves to explore the woods in her backyard. I often go with her, exploring around the creek, catching tad- pools. The creek is a symbol of our friendship and we have been best friends for a long time. We have had our problems like all best friends, and they have left scars. Scars from secrets that we kept only to protect each other. Nature girl is only one side of her though, and only our closest friends get to see that side of her. Her other side is friendly, compassionate, fashionable, intelligent, and bubbly. She is a little social butterfly, always on ichat, facebook, or stardoll chatting with friends. Either way, she is still herself and comfortable with what she sees when she looks in the mirror.

I walk over to the desk and flip through the first notebook. I know everything about her and I know these notebooks contain only things she loves and really hates. I realize the notebook is of things she hates because it has a sketch of mustard & mushrooms. She’s so gentle hearted that those are the only things she truly hates. I turn to her many love notebooks and flip through one. There are sketches of the creek, her family, our friends, Lady Gaga, Michael Jackson, pools, soccer balls, pointe shoes, and so much more. Her heart is filled with love and passion for so many things. She has a temper but she keeps it cool almost always. It only gets hot when she sees injustice or bullying. She will stand up for what she believes in, trying only to make it better. She doesn’t sketch injustice or bullying though because there is no way to show her hate for them.

I wait till she finishes her sketch. She stands up, stretching her long, smooth legs. She pulls me to the door and leads me to the garage. She gets on her bike, and as always throws on her helmet. I hop on mine, too. We bike up hill, racing each other. She always loves a challenge, especially when she wins it. As usual, she beats me up the steep hill but waits for me at the top. I notice the sun setting in the distance and remember this is her favourite time of day, watching the sun go down while riding through the streets. I glance at her watching the sunset and she looks happy and content. I realize something that is vital for her happiness… She is exactly who she wants to be… Zoey Anderson

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