A New Perspective

Chapter 17

10 Years Ago
The day's events had been just like any other day, but something about it was different. My mother and my aunt were making cookies - which I suppose that didn't happen often. I decided to watch from the doorway of the kitchen, being a bit too small to help. I enjoyed watching them, though, especially my mother. I envied her, but not in a jealous way because I was so young - I didn't understand that emotion yet. I envied her in the way that I wished I could be her. She knew everything. She was smart and beautiful and she knew how to make the best cookies. She was always happy, too.

It's fuzzy on whether my dad was still there when I was this age or not, but from the warmth of the memory, it's safe to assume he was.

Aunt Tina was mixing the cookie dough and when she caught me staring up at her, she smiled that signature smile she had. Every time I saw that smile, it made everything bad go away.

I remember that she tried so hard to help me and help my mother when tragedy had struck only a little while after, but my mother was too far gone and for all these years, I thought, I must be too.

If mother gives up, then I must have.

If mother is sad, then I must be.

If mother hates father, then I must too, because I was her child. I was a part of her as she always said.

"Vivian," My mother started speaking to me, her voice light and airy. "Do you want to put some cookies on the tray?"

I nodded excitedly and ran over to her where she picked me up. Holding me in her arms, Aunt Tina brought over the dough and placed a lump in my tiny hands.

"Make it into a ball, babe." Mother said to me, her warm breath ruffling the hair on my head slightly. My three year old self tried to squish the dough into a perfect circle and when it was deemed worthy enough to plop down on the baking sheet, I grinned, proud of myself. "Look at you, already an expert baker!"

I knew I had done a good job with the cookie dough, so I knew she was right, and that was one of the first times that I chose to believe everything she told me. She was right about many other things so, I thought, she must be right all the time.

What a mistake, but I was only a toddler.

- - -

I stare at myself in the mirror once again after I have changed into sweat pants and a t-shirt. My breathing is more shallow than I'd like and my body feels hot although the skin on my arms is cold with goosebumps. I never knew I had that memory. I forgot that that happened. I forgot that my mother used to be a good mother.

I'm stunned as I look myself in the eyes and then scan the rest of me. I swallow hard at the revelation that I look just like my mother does in those happy memories. The only difference is the color of my hair, but aside from that, I look just like her.

I tie my hair up, hoping it will make a difference, but it doesn't. I'm being reminded of her every time I walk past a reflective surface, or do my makeup and my hair, or simply walk into the bathroom because the mirror is right there. I'll be reminded of her, of the person she briefly was when I was toddler, for the rest of my life.

I reach a hand up to my face to run across my jawline. Of course, my face isn't as defined yet, but the resemblance is terrifying.  

I go back downstairs, an empty feeling in my body the whole time I make my way down the steps. When I turn and head into the kitchen, that empty feeling gets filled a bit as I'm met with Gwen again. I still have that person in my life. I still have that proper motherly figure.