When Saabya peered in the mirror absentmindedly making her hair, she looked back in surprise. She saw a reflection of a curious little girl with big innocent eyes and a hopeful smile. Saabya smiled back remembering this face, remembering the innocent little Saabya that lived deep within her. She wondered when had she grown up so much.
That little Saabya used to compete with the winds. She had dreams. Some within reach, some wonderful fantasies.
But isn’t that what our childhood is all about. Dreams and fantasies.
When Saabya looked at the mirror today, she went deep into thought imagining the life that could have been. Different choices at different moments in time might have brought her to a different place.
Little Saabya in the mirror interrupted her reverie. She tilted her head and winked, as if urging her to follow. Saabya froze. For a moment, she thought it was a trick of the light, her tired eyes playing games. But then the girl’s smile widened. It was playful, mischievous, and alive.
And like magic the mirror rippled like water. The reflection shifted, no longer bound to the frame on the wall. Saabya saw her childhood home, where she used to be buried in her books and wild dreams, chasing dragonflies and daring the wind to keep up with her. She heard laughter, her own, but brighter, freer, unburdened.
Her hand rose almost instinctively, fingers brushing the cool glass. To her astonishment, the surface softened under her touch, warm as skin. The little girl reached out too, their fingertips meeting across time. Saabya felt a rush not only of memory, but of possibility.
Maybe mirrors weren’t meant to show who we are. Maybe they were doors to our own selves. The ones that we leave behind. And as she stood there, Saabya wondered if she dared to step through.
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