As I walk through her tidy apartment, I can see bits and pieces of her life.
I can see she loved fashion, through the many, many, MANY, fashion magazines lying on her coffee table.
She seemed to like old-fashioned newspapers too, where she read the news.
On the mantel, I saw snaps of her life.
A young girl on her eighth birthday, with her parents and siblings around her, an older brother and a younger sister. She had a beautiful smile, really charming, with her front tooth fallen.
Flash forward to a young lady on her eighteenth birthday, with another gathering of her family and friends.
Then, I can see her with the world opening its wide arms, drawing a bright future, with her graduation cap and gown.
Who is that young man beside her? A boyfriend, perhaps?
But then, one photo held my eye, most of all. I can see her at the entry to the building, with her wide bright eyes, in a well-pressed pencil skirt and blouse atire. The date is handwritten at the bottom and "Good luck, junior" scrawled on the back. Seems like her first day at work.
I resume my journey around the house. Beside her bed, I found another photo of her carrying a wonderful baby with loving eyes. Was she a mother? If so, where are her kids amidst all this?!
Then another room caught my attention. She liked to paint. Paintings of the sea with its waves. Paintings of the sky, both blue and dark. Some orange and pink. Was that the sunrise or the sunset? Paintings of birds and trees. She painted nature. I can feel life through the paintings, in spite of them being still. She was really talented.
But the one standing... Too dark... Mostly black. Was that how she felt inside?
Looking closer, I can see the change through her paintings. I can see the change.
How they got darker and darker.
These paintings, as still as they may seem, they speak volumes.
I can feel her heart break, bit by bit.
I can see her smile fading.
At the last corner of the apartment, there is a ladder. I climbed up, to reach a beautiful roof garden. Once, it was well-cared for. It was loved. Now, however, the leaves are drooping, turning yellow, fading away, like the person who poured her heart and soul into them. What a beautiful landscape. Did she grow this?
I can picture her sitting there, holding her magazine, checking the most recent fashion designs, laughing, happy. Was she?
With every step, I can look a bit deeper into the soul of the fair Sarah Parker.
Every look, takes me in a different direction.
I will need to go deeper. And I am ready to dive.