Of Them All
This post is part of the Mirror Series. If this is your first visit to the Mirror Series, please click here and follow the arrows at the top right of each post to read the series from the beginning. Thank you for reading!
You almost came to be when I was two. Nobody could tell who you were. Brother? Sister? Yet, you’ve haunted me for years. People make impressive lists chronicling the People They’d Like to Meet, always designed to impress.
Of them all, I wish I could meet you.
Sometimes, I glance up from the bowl of the sink as I’m washing my face and wonder how much yours would’ve resembled mine. I see a striking sunset and try to imagine whether you would close your eyes and let the final rays warm your face in peace or scrounge for the camera and miss it like I do all the time. Would our personalities attract like the right sides of two magnets, perpetually joined with the familiar bond I envy with a twang in my heart every time I see it in the wild? I daydream that we’d be close, trading secrets, understanding what it’s like to not-quite-fit. Maybe you’d visit me, and we’d stay up all night sharing the minutiae of our separate lives.
I think you’d be a singer, blessed with our Mother’s ethereal voice, belting out show tunes at parties with our Father’s uninhibited personality. Worry wouldn’t furrow your brow. Regardless of your genetic encoding, you’d be the person to make me lighter, as I encouraged you to realize your dreams.
You had lots of dreams, floating in your tiny sea. Snatches of them flit by my ears embedded in particles of air. On the street, I see remnants of them in random unfamiliar faces. I seek you everywhere, hoping you landed inside someone I’ve yet to meet, a person my soul will recognize because part of me died with you. Bits of me were never born, because you never existed to complete them.
You rattle chains around my aura and tap my headboard when I dream. Of all the phantoms that walk the Earth, What Might Have Been is the hardest one to shake.
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