The auction floor is full of people. My owners possessions are put on tables and a man with a hammer is asking the audience how much they'll pay. Now it is my turn, a hammer strikes a table and they take me to a young woman who is smiling in anticipation. She is like my owner once was, but my owner left and never came back.
She is not her.
I remember when my owner first opened the box I was in and carefully slid me out for all to see. She was smiling, and after hugging her parents she brought me upstairs and placed me on a dresser.
Every morning the daylight would come from the outside and she would come sit down in front of me to brush her hair. Often, she would smile and I would smile back. Sometimes she would wear fancy clothes, and I would always stand ready so she would look perfect for each day.
Sunday afternoon's were for cleaning, and I always received special attention. It was nice to have the dust taken off, and she would spend extra time making sure that my intricate wooden frame and beveled glass looked like new with a bit of polish and a clean cloth. She would rub her fingers over the carvings on my edges and smile as if deep in thought, and I would smile back.
One day many years ago seemed extra special. She wore a white dress and looked quite beautiful. A man appeared at the door; it was her father and he took her by the arm and they left the room. Soon after that, I was on my way to a new house. It was good that the daylight still came, she brushed her hair in front of me every morning.
Over the years she still visited me every day, and once in a while small fingers would appear and a little face would peek over the edge of the dresser to look at me. My owner would come into the room and pick up the small child, scolding him for climbing too high. The boy was like she once was, with her eyes and auburn hair.
Each day was always brand new, but she changed so much from that first day and I changed as well. The patina on my wooden frame grew more noticable with every passing year, reflecting the lines in my owners face. But always she smiled, and I smiled back.
One day my owner slept for a very long time. She didn't come to brush her hair. She missed my cleaning day. Later, some people came and took her away and the room fell silent. Each morning the daylight would come from the outside, but my owner never came back to sit down in front of me and smile.
But I always stood ready.
I'm looking back into the face of a young woman now. She's holding me and smiling. If she places me on the dresser to brush her hair each day, maybe I'll smile back.