A MOSAIC OF PEOPLE

By Sèren Carmody-Hendriks

Call me sentimental. Call me a romantic.

My identity is a mosaic - swirling and hypnotic. Little colourful tiles of you, and you, and you, and them, in a constant state of fluctuating patterns, each as original as the first.

I believe we are more than “the average of five people you spend the most time with.” I believe we are a collection of pieces of people from the past and from the present. When I begin to care, with or without intention, I will take pieces of you, and maybe you of me, and adopt them into my own being. A habitual habit of exchange.

Some tiles stay — a permanent part of the exhibition.

From my father a complexity of tiles, deep greens and muddy browns — a love for the wild. I stride in his image towards it, mirroring his peculiar bounce in every step.

From my mother hues of tranquil blues and engraved birds. From her, the need to move and to travel guiding my heart’s compass.

Some tiles were momentary.

My mosaic was contradictory in nature then. Conflict in the form of harsh oranges, unsettling greys, and brutal reds. An obvious lack of experience — not knowing what to take and what to give. Some tiles I tried to pry off in pain, chipping them off with repetitive strikes. Others I clung on to. In one hand was glue, while the other pieced the tiles back together again, and again, and again, in hopes of resolution.

But after a while I gave into it, dropping my glue, allowing the tiles to be soon replaced by a more compatible other — a healing unknowingly needed.

Lessons have been learned since then, but even now some tiles are undecided.

But for now I will appreciate them for what they give me — a phrase from a friend that sits on my tongue, a note from my laugh reminiscent of someone else, a breakfast preference, and even a love of small spoons.

It is an expression of love in colours and engravings harmonious with those both in and out of my life. The tiles are constantly mixing, my image reshaping with each interaction — I sway with it.