Constant Change

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In this world, she's taller. She attributes that to the fact that here she’s rich and well fed. Here, she's not the orphan child of a migrant worker, as in her world of origin, forced to work in the fields from an early age. Her skin and hair are smooth, and her hands show no signs of the calluses they once possessed. In this world, her father struck gold when she was still an infant, and she grew up in a life of ease. She married a handsome man and mingled with the rich and famous.
She wants this life for herself.
She squints her eyes at the door she came from, sighing. Should she go back to the world she came from, or stay in this new one? There are only two possibilities: yes or no. The decision is an easy one, though: She’s not going back. Not to toiling for a living, not to half starving to death. The freestanding door she found in the desert is a portal to a better life, and she intends to stay. She closes the door behind her for the last time, and as she walks to her new life – no, not new, this is her life, it’s always been her life in this world – she notices herself increasing in height.
She looks around for her other self, and glimpses her as she’s vanishing through a door in the desert.
A freestanding door.
The portal to another world.
In this world, she never left her village. Her father didn’t strike gold and didn’t become a wealthy but distant man. She grew up in a small cottage on the outskirts of town, going to the marketplace once a week, where she purchased goat cheese and cured meats and fresh herbs and spices. She never lost touch with her childhood friends, and she didn’t marry a cad she later divorced amid a scandalous affair. Instead, she married the boy who used to put dirt in her lunch at school and bring her toads and geckos and everything gross until the day he brought her a rose.
She wants this life for herself.
She squints her eyes at the door she came from, sighing. That’s the freestanding door she found tonight in the desert, where she was wandering aimlessly. She was sad, and she was crying. Through her tears she suddenly saw the door, glistening by the moonlight and covered in stars. But those stars were not the familiar ones of the night sky she knew, and curiosity overtook her. She opened the door, unafraid of what she might find, and found herself in another world.
This world.
She’s made up her mind. She’s not going back to a life of loneliness and, as she closes the door behind her for the last time and walks to her life – yes, it is her life, with a loving husband and laughing children and many happy times amid trusty friends, she notices herself growing larger and the taste of wedding cake in her mouth.
She looks around for her other self, and glimpses her as she’s vanishing through a door in the desert.
The door to another world.
In this world, she left her village while still a teen, alone, leaving all her loved ones behind. Her father never struck gold and didn’t become wealthy, and she had to support herself. She worked long days at a factory and sent money to her family faithfully every week. She studied nights and finished high school, unlike her childhood friends. She attended college and earned an advanced degree. She worked for a company that developed pest resistant crops and chemical-free pesticides. Her work took her around the world.
She wants this life for herself.
She squints her eyes at the door she came from, sighing. She’s not going back to the small village of her birth, and to listening to the same old stories told many times over. She wants to be someone that makes a difference in the world but nobody around her understands the burning dreams that keep her awake at night. She won’t go back to her unfulfilled life. She closes the door behind her for the last time and walks to this life, her life, a life of traveling and accomplishments. She notices herself getting thinner and a faint smell of chemicals in the air.
She looks around for her other self, and glimpses her as she’s vanishing through a familiar freestanding door.
A door that takes her to another world.
In this world she left her village with her parents. Both died while she was still young. Here she had to work in the fields from an early age, and her callused hands attest to her hard life. Her skin and hair are rough, and she’s short and malnourished. She often cries herself to sleep, and sleeps on a makeshift bed atop a haystack under the starry sky.
She wants this life for herself, because…
Because in a few short weeks, a photographer documenting the plight of migrant workers will see her on that same field, and take a series of pictures of her as the main subject. Those photographs will be an instant success, and she, an instant celebrity. Her dust covered body, piercing eyes and unsmiling face will become a symbol for change, and a movement to improve the working conditions of migrants will be successful. She then will be the subject of a documentary, be adopted by a loving couple, and become an activist for human rights.
The life she wants.
She’s not going back to a world immersed in chemicals and equations and, as she closes the door behind her and walks towards her life – she notices her skin and hair becoming rougher and her stomach aching hungrily.
She looks around for her other self, squinting her eyes, eyes as green as the grass on the other side of the universe.