In Search of My Shadow

I was thirteen when I lost my shadow. I may have remained blissfully unaware of its absence if it hadn’t been for a well-meaning friend who drew attention to it.  I imagine many teenage insecurities to begin this way, with a voiced observation that then takes hold in the subject and grows like a cancer. I may never have found myself lacking without someone there to point out my difference. “Look!!! She has no shadow!” caused the first cell of my self-image to mutate.

Sure enough, when I looked down, I saw that indeed I was not casting a shadow on the parking lot pavement. Those around me projected dark, faceless versions of themselves onto the ground, and I did not. Both shocked at this turn of events and embarrassed to be singled out in this fashion, I laughed it off and walked off into the shade of a nearby tree.  My friends looked puzzled, but being more interested in their own personal dramas than mine, allowed this anomaly to pass. 

Standing alone in the shade, I was torn between staying there to avoid further scrutiny and venturing back out into the sunshine to test the theory once more.  Not being one to like to draw focus, however, I opted to wait until everyone returned to the building before stepping out of the shade. 

My shadow still did not appear. My stomach churned and my anxiety rose as if with guilt, as if I did something wrong that my own shadow would abandon me. I always became very disturbed when anything was lost to me, and this was no different, and perhaps worse than even the greater losses I had endured. It felt like half of me had walked away.

I admittedly had never given much thought to my shadow before that afternoon.  Was the neglect the reason my shadow couldn’t bear my company? It had just always been there, quiet and unobtrusive, a mini mime of my actions joined to me at the soles of my feet.  I didn’t know I had to keep it happy, as well, so it would stay.  I could not even keep myself happy.

Surely I could go on without my shadow.  How much did it really add to my life?  It came in handy for shadow puppets and for making scary hand monsters on walls.  It had allowed me to loosely determine my direction and the time of day during walks I had taken in the park behind my house. It was a quiet companion, one that seemed to tether me to the Earth, but often went without notice. On a day -to-day basis, would I even miss it?

Sometimes, I reflected, my shadow could even be an annoyance, always there, always following me, always doing exactly what I was doing.  Could I even be alone for a minute?  Could I do anything on my own without a constant carbon copy of me diminishing my individuality?  I didn’t need a stupid shadow. How dare my shadow leave me and cause such an inner angst?  I was happier to be rid of it.

Yet for all my attempts at self-mollification, the fact remained that I felt empty inside, bereft for its lost, unsure how I could go on this way.

I decided that I would have to search for my shadow, at least to get closure for myself and to answer the questions teeming in my head.

I knew without really thinking that the answers may lie in the forest where my shadow and I spent most of our time together. On one of our last ventures into the densest part of the woods, we had come across a small, dilapidated house in the shade of the tall trees. The building, likely having once been a lovely country house, had appeared to be abandoned and neglected.  It was also draped in inky, cloaking shadows. The shadows covering the house had impressed me at the time, as they were dense and had almost obscured the walls and roof. I had imagined that the shadows on the roof were moving independently of the trees that were casting them, and the creepiness factor had sent me hurrying away from the scene rather than venturing in.  Had my own shadow quietly stayed behind?

As soon as I had gotten home from school, and without telling my parents where I was going, I set out in search of my shadow. It seemed likely that they would not notice anyway, as it seemed that though my shadow had disappeared, those around my parents had recently grown.

It was quiet and lonely, now that I was acutely aware of my solitude.  I attempted to retrace my steps into the depth of the woods in order to come across the shadowy house again.  It was difficult to determine how long I had been hiking when the trees opened to a small clearing and the house came into view.  I had remembered the scene correctly, as the house was still draped in shadow at all angles.  The inky outlines appeared almost sinister, as if they were guarding the entrance.  I wanted to turn back again, abandoning my mission, but part of me knew that I might find answers within.

As I approached, the shadows took on a more seductive quality, beckoning me in rather than repelling.  I felt like I might be entering a trap, and I also had a fleeting fear that I might be tested here.  I might need to choose my own shadow among the many others, and I didn’t know if I could pass that test.  How well did I really know myself and the mark I made as I moved through life? How well could I recognize the image of who I had been before I was shadowless? 

I walked slowly through the gaping doorway, making a move to brush aside the curtain of darkness obscuring the view within, but my hand brushed through the air, unobstructed. Inside I saw many black outlines, dancing almost joyfully on the walls, ceilings, and floors.  There was no direct light, but the room glowed enough to make out the twirling silhouettes.

I tried to make sense of the scene, and I also scanned the rooms to find a shadow that looked like mine.  Perhaps it had felt welcomed here, as I now did? Perhaps it found this company superior to my own?  

I walked further into the house and saw, in the corner, a shape that seemed familiar. The shadow was the correct size and shape that I would expect, but it was not alone.  It appeared to be holding hands with a smaller shadow, similar in shape but smaller in stature. They had their dark heads together and had the appearance deep contentment

 Searing pain sliced through me with sudden ferocity. The walls that I had carefully constructed around my heart burst apart and the unimaginable grief resurfaced from its forced imprisonment.  I fell to the ground and wept at the sight of my little sister and me, animated on the walls of this bizarre space.

My shadow had been able to find hers and had been here with hers all along, when I could not be. I did not deserve my shadow. The sudden horror of my sister’s tragic death just months earlier powerfully resurfaced.  My helplessness at not being able to help her again filled my heart.

I cried out to beg my sister for forgiveness and to tell her how much I missed her. I also forgave my shadow for abandoning me and thanked it for finding a piece of my sister preserved in this strange house. 

I had been missing both of my shadows. Now that I had found some vestige of them, I didn’t know if I could ever leave.  I attempted again to engage the images of myself and my sister, but they did not acknowledge me. They were wrapped up in each other.  I felt equal parts sadness and joy to witness this sight.  I was torn between forcing them somehow to join me and leaving them to their shadowy existence.  

As I allowed my emotions to surge through me and the tears to come, I felt simultaneously exhausted and pacified.  My sister lived on, and so would I.  We were destined to walk different paths, but the love we shared would keep us together.

With a whispered “I love you”, I turned to leave them.  I would sacrifice anything to know that my sister had everything she needed.  I would happily give up my shadow to hers.

I made my way home by the light of the moon and fell into a deep, sated sleep. 

The next day, I felt a bit lighter than I had in months.  I resolved to make the most of my life before me, with or without my shadows in tow.  As I walked outside and stood in the sunshine, I thanked God for the gift he had given me.  In my loss, I had found solace and deeper understanding.  I turned to go back inside and caught a glimpse of the ground behind me.  My shadow had returned, and has loyally remained with me since. For an instant that day, and a few rare times since, I thought I saw a smaller image next to it, holding its hand.