• That Was Okay

    There was a picture of a baby girl with bright eyes. She was crawling on a fuzzy floor towards her daddy. She wanted to explore the world, yet she could not walk. It was okay because she was happy with the smaller world she was given.

    Then, there was a photo of a little girl with pigtails and a pointy hat. She was blowing out five little candles. She wanted a dog, but she received a doll. That was okay because she still loved that doll as if it were real.

    Soon came a family photo with a little girl wearing an itchy dress. She wore it because that was what little Catholic girls wore on Easter Sunday. She wanted a chocolate bunny, but she got a new dress instead. That was okay because it was a dress for bigger girls and it didn't make her scratch.

    There was a photo of a girl wearing thick rimmed glasses with braces along her teeth. She was on the couch studying for a math test. She wanted a “B”, but she received a “D” with the words “See me for help” It wasn’t really okay, but she said it was because you don’t need math to be an artist.

    After a few years, there was a portrait of a girl who wore contacts because she thought her glasses made her look nerdy. She wore dresses, yet she skipped church because she came home late on Saturday nights. Her candles were two large numbers rather than sixteen little ones. She wished for a boy instead of a dog, and she ended up getting both because there really isn’t a difference.

    Finally, there was a professional photograph of a little girl who was not so little anymore. She wore a gown with her lover’s arms wrapped around her waist. He wore a tuxedo and she wore heels. Her breasts spilled out of her dress, but it was okay because that’s what boys wanted.

    There was a picture of a girl on a tombstone. She wore a smile on her face and had sorrow in her eyes. Everyone saw the pictures of a happy girl as she grew into a happy woman, so they could not figure out why this happy eighteen year old girl would no longer be there to take more pictures. The funny thing is, if they had watched her through their eyes rather than a lense, they would have seen a clearer view.

    No one heard the baby girl screaming as the clock struck four because of the thunder produced by her parents’ disgusting words. No one saw the little girl’s father make her a woman when the last bit of smoke from five little candles vanished. No one noticed that the girl in the itchy dress had lost her faith because God couldn’t seem to make her mother stop drinking during the day and her father from loving her at night. No one saw tears blur the little girl’s glasses as she cried because her best friend was a one hundred. No one saw the girl with contacts whose boyfriend was ferocious behind the curtains of their love. No one saw that the girl in a gown had scars on her stomach because she could never be good enough to play the role of the girl that her boyfriend never got mad at, the daughter that her father wouldn’t need to show his love to in order to love her, or the girl that she could see in the mirror without having the urge to slice her unwanted skin.

    No one saw her sunken reflection in the mirror as she downed a full bottle of Advil to make the pain go away. No one saw what they didn’t want to see. They turned their heads and looked at the photos because seeing makes it real. Now, they look at her tombstone and they will not question why her smile deceived them. They don’t need to. They have the pictures to tell them that it’s okay.