Greetings From The Centre of the World

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Was it?

"Good morning Creator of The Waves," said the reflection to the other.

"Good morning yourself," and she batted her eyes a bit.

Then Soleil decided to take a dip, rose up and kissed the surface. "Will I meet my mate today?" she barely murmered and shook the water off. That was her only existential-like query, the only thing that mattered. The glass stood still in acquiescence. She did her usual search for the day, around the plants, beneath the boulder, and inside the hut. There was nothing new to find, nothing to play with. Her admirer never took his eyes off her, looking through the window by the pool. Occasionally Soleil would give him a look over her shoulder. Occasionally, he would wink back, but she never saw that.

Soleil was never lonely but got bored a lot. Her favourite thing to do was look at the reflection of the window. The arrangement was quite artfully done so one couldn't help but admire it. Often times it caught the sun making little rivulets like waves. Her admirer stared back, he would share this view from time to time and at least she had him for company. Still, he had made no gesture toward her, he just kind of stayed in his own corner of the world. She yearned a bit at the thought.

Soleil dreamed of the perfect wedding. Her significant other would be in a fashionable suit. She would, of course, have a long veil and fingerless white boho gloves. But it might never happen. Her Beau seemed content to only view from a distance.

She thought that maybe she should bring it up, the topic. He nodded at her as Soleil explained her wish. Then he did the oddest thing, at one point he stared so hard back that she had to question herself. So in a defiant stance, she said, "oh ya!," then she sprang forward, like a little jump, a pounce in the air and she bumped him in the nose. He did it back and bounced hers too. Then she retreated and as if wounded clouded herself in a spin of turmoil.

When Soleil turned back, he had disappeared. He was gone and so was the shelf. It lay flat now on the ground. Soleil wept and if the sun could bring tears to make the surface more extraordinary in-depth, then so she did.

Where once he stood was now a blank space. The gall of him to just walk away like that. After all that time they shared. Anything to fashion a dream upon became her purpose. Like a ghost, he was gone and now only his spirit was in her heart. The mere memory could shatter hope.

She worried about Beau, whatever happened to him? Why did he depart so quickly?

Her home was pretty small but still, she admired it, was comfortable. She often thought of leaving and exploring the world but really didn't know how so instead she was happy where she stood, most of the time. But now things changed. Instead, there was fear, horror in fact, that things could disappear like that, in a snap. The idea haunted her. There was no consolation.

The woman of the house from time to time brought her fabulous food. One day the woman grabbed the corner of the fallen shelf and set it straight again. Soleil watched in amusement, "why, I guess I could have done that myself." It was propped up on more of a lean now.

Staring back at her from across the room was Beau again. His ghost had returned. "Well, fancy you to grace my presence," she said. He said nothing, nose in the air. This is strange though, Soleil thought to herself. Something off about it. She stared hard. He stared harder. She blinked. He blinked. She moved to the left, and so did he. She moved to the right, he copied her movement. She lifted her chin, as he did. He is mimicking me, totally making fun of my every move. Why, the great brat!

Wait, something was wrong! His size looked different, yes he definitely looked a little different. She approached steadily. She graced the back of the shelf, she could actually squeeze behind it now with plenty of room as it was propped differently. She sensed some kind of trick with this. Then as she came around the corner of it she stared hard - that's my hand, that moves at the same time, he wasn't mimicking after all - that's me! The shelf really wasn't a shelf at all.

It was a reflection of some sort. It was a bit of a broken mirror all along. A piece of mirror that the woman had placed there.

Realization is an interesting thing when it makes the soul look inward. When it's about something right in front of you it is more of a shock. She was simply not used to mirrors, and never really had a need for one. Like Narcissus of Greek Mythology she pined for love in her own reflection but unlike Narcissus would never be turned into a flower because she never knew what reflection was in the corner of her world. What did Narcissus really seek? He sought love, the kind one would find in a soulmate, the one who would reflect our very reason for being.

Soleil gleaned beauty from the sailing light, from the possibility that there was so much more beyond her space in time. What the hell was a ghost doing there?! What spirit blessed her mind except the one caught in the reflection?

Soleil went around in circles with this. Who, just who would make such a thing as mirror! Was it a good thing or a bad thing? She felt like a fool, she was filled with misery. Understanding is one thing but there was no Beau after all. Soleil was staring at herself the whole time. "Aw gawd, no use for boho gloves now! No veil, no house, no bling ring!" So, she was alone in this after all. More tears fell. All this time...and not an admirer in the room. She went to the mirror knowing full well what she looked like now. Then she played with her reflection.

Life went on as usual. Nothing new, nothing amazing, just her thoughts inside the glass of her mind.

Then one day the woman brought her something. Her eyes widened, "w,w,w, whaaat is that?" She looked amazed, "it's a holder of some kind!" With a small splash and a plunge, she could hardly contain herself - there was Beau after all. He was real and all that she had dreamed of and he was special.

Soleil and Beau, the two goldfish made fast friends, they were never apart after that. Time awakens the beginnings of the soul. No ghost now. She had her mate. Greetings from the goldfish bowl.

Copyright © 2023 Lisa A Lachapelle. All rights reserved.

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