Me

Looking in the mirror, I see myself. I see ears studded with little gold hoops from my grandma. My ears have heard songs and words that have changed my life, and they have heard things they never want to hear again. I see wavy hair that turns cherry coke in the sunlight. Some of my cherry coke hair belongs to someone else now. Someone out there who doesn’t have hair of her own uses mine on a “Locks of Love” wig.
I see eyes that are big and brown, and if you look closely, are speckled like some sort of river of chocolate. Those eyes have seen things of beauty, have cried tears (drops of sadness, hatred, and joy), and have been squinched tight when wishing hard. I see relatively straight teeth, which (I’m proud to say) have never been wrenched around by the force of braces.
I see arms that have pushed with all their might to stab the icy snow with cross-country ski poles and have tried (with much difficulty) to keep moving forward. I see a pair of hands than have done many tasks, the fingers on my left rough from dancing around the strings of the violin and guitar, the ones on my right callused from writing countless poems, stories, and letters by hand.
I see feet trapped inside of old, dirty sneakers- feet that have ran around the lake and feet that have kicked the soccer ball into the goal. But those same feet have also fumbled the ball, they have tripped over each other, and they have kicked my favorite teddy bear out of the bed. I see knees that have been scraped up by the cement sidewalk, knees that have unintentionally been twisted into incredibly uncomfortable positions when I fall with my skis on.
I see a person who knows who she is, who she wants to be, and where she’s headed. She stares back at me with her eyes of chocolate that are searching for the same thing I am. Somewhere between her and me lies what we are both seeking.