Into The Eye

My name is Hope. They say names are more than just an identity. Sometimes it's a prayer, a gift or even a curse. I never understood the meaning of my name until the day I turned eighteen. The age eighteen represents so much people. To others it represents freedom, to some it's a painful memory and to others it's the beginning of something new. I'm not sure which of those represents me, but one thing am certain of is that I didn't ask for it. On the morning I turned eighteen, I woke up feeling different. Call it a hunch or paranoia, I instantly knew that I wouldn't remain the same. My mother was the first person I saw that morning. She had a smile on her face, the same as every other morning.

When I looked into her eyes, I saw more than the colour of her iris, which was as brown as an acorn. I saw through her eyes as though I looked at my reflection through still water. I saw my swollen eyes, dry lips and dishevled hair. I'm not sure if this is the best part or not, but I could see her pride in the only daughter she had. I could see the fear she desperately tried to hide, that she may never get to see me walk down the aisle. But most importantly I could see the love she had for me, not even the rising sun or the beauty of the stars could compare. I burst into tears without even knowing it. I had no answers to my mother's endless questions. I was terrified and thrilled, an emotion I couldnt quite understand even up till this moment.

It's been two years since the new me came into being. I go to school like every one else, swim and shop like everyone else. But there are days when I wish the whole world would shut their eyes for just a day. I know it's selfish to think that way, but I cant help but feel that way, when I remember the day I saw a woman stare into the glass of a dress shop.

I see the blue close-fitting, backless floor lenght satin dress, with the perfect mid-thigh slit. I saw the longing in her eyes to feel more beautiful than she already did. Perhaps it was for a man she loved, a birthday she never celebrated or even just a simple dinner. But behind that longing, I could see unbelief, such elegance didn't belong to her. Perhaps I should have nudged her to try it on, but I was only a stranger, so I remained one. I was reminded of the moments I myself didn't feel worthy of anything or anyone. Some days I cried it out and other days I simply let the feeling pass. While I was lost in my own well of thoughts, the woman had taken a different turn, getting lost in the crowd. From that moment I decided that a walk to the park was what I needed.

On my way to the park, I stopped by a jewelry shop to admire the craftsmanship of people I might never get to meet. I saw a man full of excitement as he held a ring. It was an English gold swirl engagement ring. It was so beautiful, I couldn't help but wonder when it would be my turn to wear one. But the beautiful sparkle of the diamond didn't stop me from seeing the uncertainty in his eyes. Perhaps this would be his happy ever after or the beginning of a nighmare. Regardless of what his lot will be, I couldn't help but wonder how many people felt that way. Like someone once said," Just like a poisonous apple, we won't know if love is real. Untill we've already bitten the apple, and die that we can understand it's poison."

I countinued my journey to the park, unable to forget what I had seen so far.

My thoughts were interrupted by the squeals of a girl who appeared to be ten years old. I don't suppose I had ever seen someone so happy on a swing as I did that day. Through her eyes, I could see the excitement she had, as she saw the high rise buildings, trees and the deep blue sky. She was in pure euphoria. Nothing else mattered at that moment. To her the world was perfect and simply beautiful. Who knows, one day she might become a pilot and see the sky from every corner of the world. Maybe she'll be an engineer or architect. Why remain on a swing when you can build what someone else will see. I had imagined endless futures for the girl who was completely unaware of my presence. I couldn't help but remember my days as a child. I too loved to swing, but was never a fan of the merry-go-round. I loved to play football and even broke a finger on the football pitch.

I wanted to become a doctor, but somehow along the way, I knew it wasn't what I wanted anymore. Instinctively I said a silent prayer for her. She wouldn't remain a child forever. So I prayed that when she grew to be something more, the passion and fire I saw in her eyes would never die. My day had ended with a slow walk home. I couldn't help but think about what my name meant. Hope was not meant for what we had or what we knew would come. Hope makes us fight for a better tomorrow and a better version of who we are. I couldn't help but feel like I was chosen to feel and carry the hope of people who couldn't believe in themselves. Like a soldier, I fight for others on their behalf. This is not the end, and I don't know if I'll be like this forever, but for what it's worth I've learned to understand and appreciate life more.

-faida