Like me

This is the second part of the writing workshop by Polari. (First part here.) The below is written in the 3rd person pov, from my aunt’s perspective. It’s an interesting exercise, to step into someone’s head and see yourself from the outside.

Bike-Christmas-tree.jpg

It seemed like a silly gift for a twenty year old, really. But I knew she liked the Winnie the Pooh stuff. I’d been buying it for her for years. But like most things to do with her, it wasn’t a simple thing. She liked it because of some book about Taoism or Buddhism or something.  I always loved her spirit, something life had never managed to crush. She was mine, really.  She loved to write, and draw, like me. She was curious and independent, like me. I bought her the bike she wanted, made the christmas tree as big as I could, cooked the foods she liked. But she always had to leave, to follow her mother. 

I asked her, once, when she was a teenager, to live with me. But it was too late. She was on her own then and I missed my chance. But I was proud of her and I knew she’d be okay. If only I’d live to see what she’d become. She was my daughter; like me. Maybe a little more girly–her jelly shoes and worry about her frizzy hair would make me laugh. She’s built like me too–she’ll never be a waif, she’ll be sturdy, solid, like me. I wish she wasn’t as closed off as I am, as distant and quiet. She like me. Mine, really. I wish she’d talk more, keep fewer secrets. Too much like me, that way.  

She can see that this is it. I can see it as she hugs that supid bear. I’m going to miss her so much, this strong kid who never stops to let the world catch up to her. She’ll miss me too, I know. We’ve grown apart, but that’s okay. She doesn’t need to see what comes next. She’ll remember the big Christmases, the Easter baskets, the bear. She’ll be the one to take care of things after. I’ll leave only memories, no clues as to the things I kept private. Those are mine, and they’ll stay mine. 

She’s going to be okay.

3 thoughts on “Like me

  1. Stirring. Touching. Moving. How? Words. Just like music notes, when tuned right, the frequency reverberates in the senses and the psyche, vibrating the soul. That’s how your words here have done. Well done, mate.

    Liked by 1 person

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