The Girl in the Window

I saw the reflection of a girl in a rain-kissed window. The raindrops could have been her own tears, for her eyes were sullen and lost. She was a reflection of deeply hidden scars. Her soft cries were an echo, barely heard but closely felt. I stared at her, too afraid to turn around. Or so I thought at first. Maybe it was not fear, but captivation? I felt entranced by her sorrow. I even felt it pool within my heart and flow through my veins. Somehow, I knew that even if I could turn around, she would be gone. She was a ghost from a time long ago. She chose me in this moment that was frozen in time. I could no longer hear the ambience of traffic and chatter. I could no longer feel the chilling drops of the heavy rain. All I could do was stare into those haunted eyes.

Those eyes…They could have been as warm as a morning cup of coffee. They could have been lit up with stories of life and passion. She was a beautiful girl, one that you would see running in the rain giggling, or cozying up with a book by the fireside. Yet here she was, a dejected shell of what could have been. What had hurt her so? I am sure I could relate. No one is untouched by pain or loss. She let it silently consume her. It ate at her insides and nested itself tightly in her heart.

I wanted to ask her. I wanted to tell her I could help. I was rather unsurprised to feel myself unable to speak. Nothing such as this ever comes easily. So instead, I stared into the dull abyss that were her eyes. Her frown slowly raised to almost a smile.

“You can do this,” she whispered hoarsely, “Do this for us.”

Facing this window, I realized I had a choice. Past, future, chaos, order. All these extremes had plagued my mind, causing hours of dreadful rumination. Time and time again, I have restrained myself to the fear of being just a shadow among the living. In doing so, I forgot to actually live. Here I was, staring at the face of a familiar stranger, a reminder of the past, and an omen of the future. But I have a choice. Do I become the reflection of the girl I see? Or do I believe in more? Barely living or thriving? Crawling or dancing? This choice is mine. I choose to make that sad girl proud. I choose to show her that life can be different, and it deserves to be. Fear irradiated my bones, but I decided it was time to take control. My choice would not be simple. It would come with hardship and obstacles. But I would let my fear remind me of what is at stake and push me forward. If I never feared, then I would never care.

“Thank you,” I whispered gently to the girl, “I know what I must do. I’ll take care of us now.”

Her eyes swelled with tears, but her smiled lifted across her cheeks. She nodded in agreement. She did not say another word, but I understood.

With one final glance, I left that rain-streaked window. I turned forward down the road ahead. The sound of tires against the bumpy road, the buzzing of people, and the sweet-smelling rain…It all came back to me. With dewy eyes, I smiled with acceptance and began walking back home. One reflection, of what was and what could be, reminded me of where I am now and where I want to go. Long I have been that scared, saddened girl, hiding in shadows and reflections. I know her pain, I know her sorrow. I am that girl, as are many others. But I am not a ship to be drowned and rest in pieces upon the ocean’s depths. I choose a different path.