She stood in front of a mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection. Her lips curled into a disapproving sneer, as she cringed at what she saw.
“What do you see?”
She saw a huge brown forehead, cowering underneath bushy black side bangs. She saw a pair of sharp black eyebrows, hovering over round blue eyes.
A long nose with a pointy end and pale lips dry to the surface.
An over-stretched pored skin and a blunt chin with a dent on the side. Streaks of straight short hair tucked behind meaty ring-less ears.
She thought she saw a shadow of a cheekbone. And a pair of squared glasses enclosed in a plastic frame of black with a sliver of red.
I said nothing.
I looked at the woman who ignored drooping eyes to stay up all night nursing my chicken pox.
I looked at the woman whose eyebrows curved as she concentrated on keeping my egg yolk runny.
I looked at the woman who told me I wasn’t crazy when I wanted to get my ears pierced. The woman who stood by my side when the world turned its back on me.
And I saw the woman I cherished.