Posted by: jolantru | July 4, 2009

Wave Three: Mirra’s Mirror

I have hardly looked at myself in the mirror, after I have left my village for the City. I have never thought myself as beautiful or plain. I am just myself, simple as that.

So I was surprised when Benyi gave me a small mirror with an ornate black iron-wrought frame, bought from the blacksmith who has his workshop at Lambs Quarter. I thanked him and he smiled at me shyly before darting off into his class.

It came wrapped in gossamer-thin paper and I peeled the layers open, only to see my face reflected in the mirror. Only except I did not know that was my face, until I blinked and the reflection blinked back at me. I touched my right cheek and the reflection did so by touching her left.

I have the black hair so typical of my village, worn long and tied in a severe ponytail. My face is slender, almost thin, and my skin color is brown, no doubt a product of being under the sun for a long time. My ancestors hailed mainly from Asian and Southeast Asian extraction. That was way back on Terra Firma and even now, we could perceive distinctive physical features: oblique eyes, dark hair, petite stature. I pouted my lips; they were a dark ruby red, glistening with my saliva.

I tilted my face to the left and my hair caught the light from the candles: edged with gold and shimmering away, tinged with fire. I was intrigued by my own physical appearance.

For a long time, I have decided to be Apart. That is to say that I have chosen to walk the path of singlehood. I have never thought of being part of a pair or triad or – like the families in my village – marrying husbands. I have not taken account of how I look like to people. I have now reached twenty-one sun-circles. Marriageable age, as Grandmother would say with a twinkle in her eye. My cousins have married once they are old enough. I remain repulsed by the concept after witnessing what Second Father has done.

Yet… walking down the streets criss-crossing Lambs Quarter, where the merchants, farmers and vegetable growers stake their claims with their makeshift stalls, I have begun to draw attention from young men and women. It is a strange feeling, at times uncomfortable, at times enough to bring a flush of pleasure to my cheeks.

Does my mirror reveal the true me? Am I still a daughter of the sea, a descendant of oyster divers and pearl gatherers?


I have placed the mirror with its black iron filigree next to the oyster candles. It reflects the warm flickering light and I enjoy watching it while the night deepens.


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