Object Story
I would look out the window from this wooden desk everyday, at every moment. It’s because that’s the only place I can actually look toward due to these fixed, unmoveable, unblinkable, cold eyes. Unless my owner decides to move me around, I would be staring out the window for quite a while. Staring relentlessly at the repetition of different weathers, and the slow change in climate as the seasons change. I guess it isn’t that bad either. At least I also have the company of my sisters around me…and inside. At least it’s a lot better than staring into the darkness for all eternity like I did before I was freed from the belly of my bigger sisters. I have no right to complain as it is not fair for my two other sisters trapped in my very own belly. But out of the repetitive days, just one day I saw a different but familiar sight: snow. Before I even realized, it was coming down heavy. My excitement was riling up intensely, my eyes would widen if I could actually move them. My thoughts faded into the snow and I gently felt myself sink into my memories. My thoughts brought me back to Russia. I remember when my creator brushed these eyes onto me, giving me sight. The moment the brush left my face, I saw the window, and the familiar sight of rapid snow. But the sight only lasted for so long and I was moved to another table with my sisters. There was a mirror beside and I glanced at my reflection seeing myself with lashes and a painted on sarafan. It appeared to me that I was a girl… Even with the drives and wonders of a adventurous boy in me. Even if this is the case I had my friends beside me. But that didn’t matter as my attention was drawn to the craftsman’s young beautiful apprentice in the distance. She was sanding the carved out bodies of the other Matryoshkas with her delicate hands as she sings softly. Under the boredom of this crafts house, she brings about a different vibe. I was kept on this table for days to come, and she would always come in in the morning, and leave when night falls, leaving me anticipating the next day when she would come again. I was always happy to see her, and perhaps I could even say I fancy her. But I was just a plaything, unspecial and similar to all the others, why would she give back attention to me. I accepted that fact quickly, and I appreciated the fact that I could see her and hear her humming. I still hoped for her to pay even the slightest recognition to me. It was an impossibility, until just one afternoon she started staring back at me. I felt her warm glaze pointed right at my eyes, and as my hopes grew strong, everything went dark. Realization that I was finally trapped inside the belly of sister hit me fast. She only payed attention because the craftsman finally enclosed me and readied up to transport me. I knew from that moment I would never see her again. With this bitter feeling, and the complete darkness in front of me, I lost count of the days I have been entrapped, and I ended up on this wooden table in New York. Just when I thought I had forgotten, the sight of snow brought it all back. The snow subsided pretty quickly, and a tint of sunlight came through the clouds. It was beautiful, and the bitter thoughts were fading away too. Looking at the view, I’m thinking maybe it is time to let go of these wintery thoughts; appreciate what I can perceive and attain, and move onto the new. Say, spring is right around the corner.
