Among the earliest memories I know to be real is that of my reflection in the mirror. I was around thirteen.
The mirror was in the bathroom, and the bathroom was next to the room I shared with my sister. The mirror was of a rectangular shape, unframed and without any embellishments. The bathroom had white tiled walls.
I recall feeling a sense of growing awareness as I realized that the reflection in the mirror was in effect me. I began to examine my facial features, the shape of my face and imagined what others see when they look at me.
It would be years later before I understood the importance of that moment. I felt mixed emotions; surprise, acceptance, shyness and curiosity. There was a kind of embarrassment as I stared at my reflection. I wondered if I liked myself. I did not have a natural inclination to like or dislike the individual in the mirror. There was no question of acceptance or rejection.
All that was left from this awakening was the question, “Who is she?” I wanted to look into the reflection, beyond the surface, behind the eyes and the inner center. Is that person really me?