~Mirrors are more than a fixture on a wall made of breakable glass and pretty frames. They are a portal to someone's soul, reflecting all of their deeply hidden fears, dreams, and desires🪞~
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SARAI
After staying in tennis practice two hours over the usual time, all I wanted to do when I got home was soak with my bath salts and binge watch "The Resident" on Netflix. I walked into my house hoping that I would find momma in the kitchen making her famous seafood lasagna like she does at least once a month, but what I discovered instead was very different from what I had imagined. Instead of making my stomach grow like seafood lasagna would, what I was seeing made my stomach do somersaults. My adoptive mom was sitting on the couch with my birth mom. Before this very moment, my biological mother Taraji was just a distant dream, something I could feel but couldn't touch or see. Now she's in my house, sharing my space, and I have to conjure from within me everything I've wanted to say to her, but was never given the chance to. My first thought upon laying eyes on her was that she was beautiful. I've never seen a woman who looks like her. Her features are too striking and unique to be possessed by anyone else on this planet. I hoped to be wearing something cuter than my practice clothes when I finally met her for the first time, but that doesn't even matter now. All that matters is that she's here. My happiness was immediately followed by feelings of fear and nervousness. What if she doesn't like me? What if she's incapable of loving me? What if she's incapable of loving anybody, for that matter? I don't want to stereotype her, but good-hearted people don't usually go to prison. What if she has PTSD from her time in prison and I do or say something to trigger her because I don't know her? What if she's 15 years too late to form a real mother-daughter connection?
Sarai: M-Momma? Is this real?
I didn't know if I was talking to Taraji or the woman that I've been calling my momma all of my life, but they both turned around and then stood up to address me. Taraji's eyes locked with mine, and it was like the Earth had stopped spinning on its axis. There was this quiet energy that was transferred between us, and it seemed to fill the room, taking up space and leaving me to wonder if I was standing on my feet or floating in the air because of how unbelievable this whole situation felt. Should I hug her? Would she hug me back, or is it too soon? I had a million questions that I wanted to ask the both of them, and I didn't know where to start in my mind.
Sarai: Taraji? How are you here right now? How did you...
I trailed off, my voice straining as I got choked up and tears flooded my eyes. My momma approached me to give me a comforting hug while Taraji stayed glued in her spot, like she was afraid of getting too close to me. I cried into my momma's shoulder as she rubbed my back in soothing circles. My tears were a mix of joy and confusion, and they wouldn't stop coming. I looked over my momma's shoulder at Taraji, and she was rubbing her arm as if she didn't know where she was supposed to fit in this situation.
Sarai: Did you find her? How did you make this happen?
Fantasia: We'll talk about that more when your mom gets here. She needs to be apart of that conversation. Are you ok? How are you feeling?
