The Boy and the Mirror

 

Shannon Johnston

This is the story about a boy and a mirror. Not so very long ago a man and a woman married- their parents told them to. They bought a house built the way things use to be built, all real brick and real wood and real tile on the floor. The man worked hard- the government told him to. And he smoked his cigarettes-his doctor told him to. The woman kept her home tidy and baked meatloaf- her husband told her to. And together they had a lot of children-church told them to.

These parents gave each of their 11 children a mirror (And it was the one thing the children did not have to share). The parents would show each child how their mirror reflected who the child was.

Now there was one child among the 11 who was the most clever, playful, determined (and sometimes mischievous) of all. And so it happened that when any mischief or tears or fights erupted (as is common among living creatures) it became the habit of this man and woman to pull out this son’s mirror and make him look at it. They would say “Look at what a bad boy you are, this quarrel and pain is all your doing, aren't you ashamed?” He would protest, trying to explain away this blame, but his Father would say “This mirror does not lie, it reflects who you are and you are a bad trouble maker.”

The boy hated the mirror, So one day he went to a shop and stole a new mirror. This mirror was different, it always reflected him smiling and and always reminded him,“You are right.”  After each time his parents blamed and shamed him and told him he was bad, the boy would retreat to his closet. There he'd pull out his new mirror and look into it. All his anger and rage and hurt would numb as he saw the smile of his reflection and heard- “You are right.”

And he grew.  One day he set out to live his own life. He hardly doubted himself at all now.

Sometimes He would even make a friend.  But perhaps this friend would suggest a word the clever boy-now-a-man had spoken was damaging, or might ask if a truth he believed was a lie, or tell him a song he sang was cruel. When such a question or idea came The boy-now-a-man felt the air evaporate in his chest and he would retreat to his mirror. Staring until he could breathe again, staring until the reflection of his smile told him he was right, staring until the empty calm numbed away all the feelings.

The man grew older, his friends who asked questions faded, and he was mostly alone. One day a stranger noticed the man sitting on a park bench, staring at his mirror. She held out a different mirror, one very clean and lovely.

“Would you like to try this mirror? It's a much clearer reflection!” she offered.

Rage of a thousand un-fought fights exploded.

“DON'T MAKE ME LOOK IN YOUR MIRROR!” He shouted.

She stepped back.

“I don't understand why you are so angry at my question.”

“I'M NOT ANGRY!” he roared.

The stranger looked at the mirror the man cradled and stared into. She gasped, though the man raged, his mirror reflected a smile on his face-a blank and vacant kind of smile.

"Your mirror is broken." she said

"I DON'T WANT YOUR MIRROR!" the man raged, "I am not bad, I am right, I only will look in the mirror I found!"

Tears filled his eyes that never lost contact with his smiling self in the mirror.

The stranger left and the man sat alone.

For the next decades he sat, soothed by a mirror who showed him one empty smile.

And one night as the sun set he sat up and began to walk away from the bench, clutching the mirror, humming “ I am right, I am right, I am right…”

                                                                          end

Tiny Sprout and the Mighty Oak

Once-Upon-A-Time there was a Seed. The Seed was planted and at the proper time a tiny sprout pushed through the earth, she felt warm sun and little breezes and with contentment she said, “Here I am!”

“But who are you?” said a voice.

Tiny Sprout looked up and saw big branches.

“I know who I am,” she answered, “I am the sprout of the Seed I came from, and the Seed is who I am”

The voice snickered, “I am the Mighty Oak, and I can not see this seed you talk about, so I will tell you who you are. You are a tiny little sprout, nothing more than a blade of grass beneath my grand branches. You will be my tiny sprout and I will keep you safe. “

“Oh” said the little sprout, puzzled,she could not see her seed, but she felt it in all of who she was.

The next morning the sun rose and the little sprout awoke again and felt warm sun and the little drops of dew. She heard birds and she felt alive and said to the world, “Here I am!”

“But who are you?” Again asked the Mighty Oak.

“ I know who I am, I am a sprout who came from the Seed and the Seed is who I am!”

“I still can not see this Seed you speak of,” snorted the Mighty Oak. “I am the Mighty Oak, I know all things. I am here to keep you safe and tell you who you are. You are a tiny little sprout, no bigger than a blade of grass.”

This went on for many days. Mighty Oak explained that she was too tiny to know anything at all. When Tiny Sprout listened to the song her Seed sang over her, Mighty Oak grew angry.

Tiny Spout loved the song, but it grew dangerous to listen, Mighty Oak would not tolerate it.

Slowly the song became a memory.

Tiny Spout spent her days trying to be a good little sprout, but she wasn't exactly sure what a good little sprout was meant to do. Years passed.

One afternoon an Albatros landed on her branch. Tiny Sprout was perplexed and wondered how such a large bird could rest on her tiny branch.

“What a lovely Tree you are!” said a kind voice.

“Tree?!” cried Tiny Sprout, “I am only a tiny sprout!”

The Albatros laughed and said “And a tree with a sense of humour!”

Tiny Sprout was angry, “No! I am a Tiny Sprout!’

The wise Albatros said nothing for a moment.

And then gently asked “Tiny Sprout, who told you you were a tiny sprout?”

“The Mighty Oak told me who I am.”

“Oh he knew you when you were young?

“Yes.”

“It must have been lonely after he left, when you were still so young.”

“But he did not leave!”

Now the Albatros felt perplexed.

“Where is he?”

“Can’t you see him? I grow in his shadow, he is the Mighty Oak!”

The Albatross left the branch, slowly soaring around Tiny Sprout. Carefully looking about, she noticed an old, decaying shrub. It grew in the shadow of Tiny Sprout.

She returned to Tiny Sprout’s branch.

“Tiny Sprout, there is only one mighty oak that has grown in the land.”

“You found him then,” Tiny Sprout sighed.

“I found her.  Tiny Sprout, you are the Mighty Oak.”

A breeze blew and Tiny Sprout felt the wind push through her leaves, she saw`mountains beyond her and brilliant sky rolling out for miles. She felt warm sun on her hundred branches, and she remembered her seed. Her seed that sang in all of who she was. She began to weep. She felt the past and the present and all of who she had been and all of who she was meant to be. And the aching, awful emptiness of the scars replacing her missing branches; all the branches deemed inappropriate for a Tiny Sprout and then cut away. 

The Albatross was quiet for a long time as Tiny Sprout wept.

And then She said. “You are a beautiful, mighty Tree”

Tiny Sprout, was silent for many days and the Albatross stayed quietly near.

Tiny Sprout finally spoke.

“I see now that I stand here a mighty tree. I soak in the rain, my roots run deep, deep, deep, into this soil, I announce seasons, I feel wind through my thousand leaves and I hear the songs of the birds who come to me for safety. Here I am.”

And she groaned a sigh in agony.

“Deep inside me I still feel like a tiny sprout, a little blade of grass. I don't know how to believe in who I am.”