246
Prose
My Inky Reflection
Rijak Kaur Sarla
The birds serenaded the dawn. The roads don't rise, and the roads don't sink: It is me who does the walking. Every day, it’s right there, and I can ride it anywhere. I got down on the road, my feet rumbling on the pavement. I see the places I used to do hopscotch with my son, walk to my smiling mother, and don the olive green myself. The road stretches onward, taking each turn in easy stride, hugging the land. I turned down the bend and went on. I looked at my shoes: they felt they wanted to push back on the ground softly to support me as they did earlier. The Sun was bright, and with labored ease, I put them to the ground: the gravel rubbing against my feet, pricking the sole, and easing out my feet drop. I looked down to see that shadows could not see themselves in the mirror of the sun. My feet smiled to the ground, and I smiled at my inky reflection. It told me to go on, but I resisted. The inky me smiled at me again, and I accepted the appeal with resignation. I pushed forward and let go of the push rims, moving my hands in an arc to return to the starting position. Go as far as you can see, when you get there, you'll be able to see further. I trundled and spoke to myself, "Make peace with the mirror and you'll see your reflection change."
I reached my destination, where I saw people resembling me: I pulled my left leg back and pushed my right leg forward together, turning left. I reached out to the nurse and transferred myself to the bed, putting my hands on the armrest and leaning forward. I looked at my feet: they shone so bright that I could look into them to see my reflection, yet again: I wanted to shatter this mirror, but it seemed it reassembled again. I did not want to live anymore, but I mustered up some courage to look back at my shining prosthetic legs again. I lost my legs in war. Me and my family were disaster struck, but I had to move one. The nurse inspected the skin of the stump to look for sores or wounds. Nevertheless, I braved it as a soldier, I have always been. I realized that I was much more than what I saw in the mirror, having learned every inch about myself. I was fitted in with my leg, and I returned to my wheelchair rolling through the incline to live with the new 'mirror me' proud of my inky reflection.