Hauntings from the Ghost of My Younger Self

She died with me on that day the honey brown hair turned red and I no longer weighed myself down in a dozen beaded necklaces. My younger self still haunts me.

She is the ghost hidden behind the mirror each time I look back at my reflection. I hear her highpitched giggles in my ear as she talks to her imaginary friends. Throughout the day, she whispers stories to me to help me keep writing and feel her connection to the past.

Whenever I feel lonely, I look at old pictures on my laptop. She hovers over me and we laugh about our youth. She points out my mismatched clothes when I was first discovering my style. I cringe at the wacky combo of camouflage and polka dots. You were so silly, I remind her. You still are, she smiles at me.

Today I wear bows in my hair, colorful skirts, and extra accessories so she knows I still think about her.

The Next American Idol

My mom was the cameraman. The bed was my stage. My stuffed animals, my fans. A rising star at a young age.

I grabbed wigs, props, accessories, playing all of the contestants, performing songs from my memory, like I do now in the present.

I put on an act, making my characters sound pitchy, to save the best for last, so I could sound most pretty.

Who was the finalist? You’d never guess. It was Sierra who sounded the best!