There's Someone Looking Back at You

When Sophie was a little girl, I was too tall for her. So, she had to stand on a step stool to get a complete view of me. I watched her as she did her daily routines: brush her teeth, comb her hair, call for her mom when she needed help.

When she was about five years old, I watched as her sister asked her, "do you want me to take off the Band-Aid slow, or rip it off fast so it doesn't hurt?" Pfft, that was a leading question if I ever knew one.

"Fast," Sophie responded, of course. And soon after the Band-Aid was ripped off, she dramatically started screaming in pain. She regretted her decision; even I could tell.

When Sophie reached seven, she threw many tantrums over her hair. Either she couldn't get the style right herself, or her mom tugged her hairbrush through her tangles too roughly. It was painful to watch the tears streaming down her face.

In 2014, I watched as Sophie sang along to her favorite songs. When she reached her second year of high school, she stuck a sticker on me. The next year, I watched as she and her friends dressed in all camouflage before a football game.

I was there for her when she got ready for homecoming, when she had a stomach virus, and when she was playing hide-and-seek.

I saw her at her worst times. I could tell she lacked confidence in certain moments. But I saw her when she was feeling her best, too.

And throughout the years she has always cleaned me and wiped me down.

She's moving out next year, and she'll leave me behind. I won't see Sophie as much anymore, and eventually never again once her parents sell the house. But I'll always hold the memories of her.

I am an exact reflection of her, of course.

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Sophie's Sentiments

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