I've lived my whole life in this house and never have I been into the attic. I'm six now, and I'm old enough and tall enough I think to go up there. My mom told me that's where i would find the missing pieces of me someday, whatever that means. I've got all my body parts so I don't know what's missing.
Eight years has gone by. I am fourteen now. My parents are no longer together. My dad is gone and my brother left and hasn't talked to us in over a year. My mom has removed anything and everything that reminds us of my dad so she can forget. I'm starting to feel like the broken mirror in my room that has missing pieces. It broke the night my dad never came home. I feel these missing pieces. Where are they, lost like me. I feel the division, the chaos,, the abandonment, the sadness, the loneliness, the confusion. All of these emotions are in the void of the mirror. I'm only a piece of me. I remembered what my mom said a long time ago about finding the missing pieces of me someday. I decided that it is time I went up into that attic. I pulled the string and the stairs dropped from the ceiling. In opening up this room I understood what my mom meant all those years ago. This was everything of my dad's. I found a box with a lock on it and the key taped on the bottom. I unlocked the box and found a note in my mom's writing: "Dear Son, I didn't have the heart to tell you, and didn't know how in words that wouldn't break your heart. Your brother left because he knew. I thought if you believed he would come back someday you would not leave. I love you Son. Your dad loved you too. He will never come home, and I will never leave." Underneath the letter was a death certificate that said my dad died in a car accident. Underneath of that were the missing pieces to the broken mirror. I closed the box leaving the attic. I placed the broken pieces together as they fit, filling the void I would not longer see in the mirror. However complete, my image will always be broken. But I can see all of me.
© MaidenRival