Reflector

2/25/2015

"That's the thing about this town.." I say, "It can turn a beautiful dream into a nightmare. But it can also turn a nightmare into a beautiful dream. Depends on how you look at it. So when things like this happen," I pause to gesture to your banged up knees, "you have to understand that life will throw some difficult things at you. But you just have to get back up."

My words are laced with more knowledge than you could ever know.

Your small fingers reach up, entangling with my hair. Your red, puffy, olive green eyes focus on mine. A question lingers on your face.

"Go on," I probe, "what's your question?"

"Where are Mommy and Daddy?" Your voice is so innocent - so soft, so sweet - that I can't bring myself to tell you the truth. That they're never coming back.

"I don't know, my little Reflector." I whisper.

4/2/2016

"Hey.. don't do that." My heart races as you wobble along the back of the couch.

"Why not?" You taunt.

I sigh. "Because, Gianna, it's dangerous. And I'm the only one around to stop you."

"Ugh. Fine." You leap off the back of the couch, your long caramel braids trailing behind you. Your skinny legs are a little banged up, but I can't stop you from doing everything. Your bare feet smack against the wooden floor.

"Thanks, Reflector." I smile warmly at you. "I love you."

"Yeah.. love you too. Why do you call me that?"

The way your questioning expression sparkles tempts me so sweetly to answer. But deep down, I know it is not the right time. Not yet. The story behind the nickname is special to me- the way it's cozily bunked in a small nook of my brain.

"I promise to tell you, when the time's right, Reflector."

7/22/2019

"And I said, 'That's the thing about this town.. It can turn a beautiful dream into a nightmare. But it can also turn a nightmare into a beautiful dream. Depends on how you look at it.'"

"That was good advice, wasn't it?" Your eyes sparkle like a thousand suns as you lick your dripping ice cream cone.

"It wasn't too shabby, if I do say so myself. And I do." I say. You flick your yellow-framed sunglasses down from your head, onto your eyes. Your flip-flops (which are also yellow) click and clack as we walk down the empty streets.

Suddenly, you grab my ice cream and take off running. I barely hear you screeching, "Catch me if you can!!" Before I run after you.

That's another thing I love most about you. You make everything... better.

As I chase you into the cold kitchen, you skid suddenly to a stop (with a little turbulence, because flip-flops don't have the best traction) and hold my ice cream over the trash can. Using your toughest voice, you declare:

"Tell me where the nickname came from, or the ice cream gets it." You draw a line over your neck. You laugh mischievously.

I gasp and dramatically wipe a fake tear off my face.

"Goodbye, ice cream." I speak. "It has been an honor."

You whine. "Argh! Why won't you tell me?"

I simply state calmly, "I will. Just not now."

5/5/2020

First, it's amusement. Assumption that this is one of your games.

"I'm gonna find you!"

Then, it's dismissiveness.

She'll be back soon.

Then worry.

"Gianna? Hey.. where are you?!"

Then panic.

"Gianna! Please.. come out.. this isn't funny anymore!"

So I start searching. I check your room. Nothing.

The living room- your favorite couch. Nothing.

The bathroom? Nothing.

My room. There you are. Dead.

Grief

Panic

Dread

Pain

Anguish

Regret

Sorrow

Mournfulness

Heartache

Misery

Bleakness

Agony

Despair

Remorse

Sadness.

I tell myself this must be a mistake, a dream, a game.. but I know it is not.

I approach you, eyes already stinging, throat burning like the fire within.

I choke. My voice more than wavers. "Please..." My tears fall upon your shirt like a spring shower. Your olive green eyes will never stare into mine again.

What I would give to have you leaping off the back of the couch, just one more time.

Even to have you screaming in anger at me.. just to hear your voice, to see you one last time.. to say goodbye.

"Please, my little Reflector... come back." I press my forehead to yours, knowing that my wish will not come true.

6/16/2021

Do you remember any of that? I'd assume not. You were so little.. so unaware.

You had the same disease mom and dad did.. it's undetectable. You don't know until it's too late.

But it doesn't matter. You're gone, and I can't change that. This cruel world took everything I loved from me.. why? First it was Mom and Dad. Then, just as I finally got over that, the universe stooped so low as to steal your life too.

I have this one memory. It was a June night, the summer of 2013. You were three. I was eleven.

We sat on a dock overlooking the pearlescent lake. The reeds blew in the soft wind while mom and dad held hands. I allowed my painted toes to skim the surface of the cold water, but never allowed them too deep under the surface for fear of falling and losing you.

You stood there, in pure awe, staring up at the sky and then back down at the water. You would not - could not - understand how you could see the stars in so many places. Their soft glow reflected in your eyes. Your tiny little mouth hung open. Your chubby feet were flatly planted on the wood.

I remember, I could hear the water lapping on the shore. So peacefully frightening. From one perspective, the water was hungry and violent, and it was just as greedy as I've learned the world can be. But from another, the water was just a moving being, like me and you were.

After that night - you, with your star-filled eyes, stubby pigtails, and awestruck face - I promised myself never to leave you. Little did I know that you would be the one leaving me.

So there you have it- I've finally explained the nickname. It's not even that interesting: If you were around, you'd laugh. But it doesn't matter, because you're not.