There's one window, in the hallway near the elevator bank in my office building that shows me an accurate reflection of myself. No other window or mirror shows me quite the same thing, but this one offers an honest (and kind) image of what i must look like to the rest of the world.
I find myself staring at that person every day as I wait for the ding of the elevator, trying to make her see me, too. I want to have a conversation with that me in the window. Nothing else has given me quite the same perspective on my self-image. I'm dying to know what else she knows and what else I can learn from her.
For she is a thing of beauty. A mere whisper of me, yet strong and firm in her existence. Confident in her movement, assured in her ability. She is a delicate and formidable character with little regard for the trappings of trendsetters and impervious to the shallow obsessions of those who fear themselves.
And somehow, I know she is me. I am her. And we? Together, we will thrive.
