Anna Gamal
“Do you belong to me?” The girl asked the wrinkled book she had picked up off of a city bench. She flipped through the pages, feeling them to be a little damp. The words were beginning to bleed together, forming one blurry story that she would not be able to read. She hurried to separate the pages, but the ink would not stop smearing.
I’ll bring you home and fix you up, she thought. She didn’t know what the book was about, but she was sure she’d love the story anyway. She was about to tuck the book in her purse when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught her attention. She looked up and found an old man sitting on the other side of the bench. She smiled at him, but he was only staring at her book. He looked at her, then to the book again. She was beginning to get the feeling that her new book really wasn’t hers to bring home.
She handed him the book, and he smiled so wide that one might think that was his favorite book in the world. She imagined all those wrinkled and worn out pages were his doing, from reading and rereading the book countless times. He flipped through the pages and she realized the words didn’t look smeared at all. They were just as they should be, in the hands of who they should be.
She dipped her head in apology and went on her way. She was happy that the book had someone it belonged to, but she wished something could belong to her too.
On her way home, a flower caught her eye. It was the deepest blue she’d ever seen and she swore she felt it calling to her. This must belong to me, she thought. Why else would it catch her attention?
She imagined how lovely it would look in it’s very own vase full of water and that plant food she knew people used to care for freshly cut flowers. She made a mental note to run to the store to get some of that on the way home. A giddiness rose inside her, but just as she was about to snip the flower from its stem, she found a tiny little bee hidden inside the petals.
She reached her hand out to shoo the bee away, but the petals seemed to curl in protection, hugging the bee even more. She heard a buzzing come from the flower, as if the bee was saying, “back away. This flower belongs to me!”
Message received, bee.
The rest of the walk home she wondered when she would ever find what belongs to her. She wished something would want to protect her as the flower did the bee. And she wished she would love something as much as the old man did the book.
When she got home, she made herself her favorite dinner, played her favorite songs, and began to wind down for the night. She stood in the bathroom, waiting for her shower to heat up. It always took so long. She began to observe herself in the mirror as she waited, tracing the reflection of her face, her hair, her body. She stared and stared until the steam from the shower fogged up the glass and she could no longer see herself.
She stepped in the shower to wash away the day's disappointments, not realizing that she was caring for the thing that already belonged to her.
A Note From the Author...
I wrote this mostly as a reminder to myself. I tend to get easily wrapped up in trying to find things that I believe will make me feel fulfilled. Sometimes I try to find this feeling of fulfillment in other people or even just material objects. This piece is a reminder that everything I could possibly need is already within me, I just have to recognize that.
コメント