I shed the clothing.
The “I don’t want to lose me and look like a mom” shoes.
The ill fitting, post-children skin that sometimes feels like wearing chewing gum that was blown into a bubble, popped and then stuffed back into my jeans.
That skin, often bruised from playing.
Hands rough from washing. Loving. Washing.
Walk away from obligation
Walk away from guilt
Walk away from all that I’ve become.
“They” would see the mess of me, no longer hidden by all that…stuff
Scattered clothes, scattered letters, scattered thoughts
“They” would see bad back, achy knees, wishful thinking, a woman who desperately needs attention…but not that kind.
“They” would see the heart full of funny, magical, little girl love. That heart, its beating made bright and vibrant by those two, often needing reflection
“They” would see that there isn’t much of me that is hidden beneath that skin – my journey is an open book.
The “I shoulds”
The “I wants”
Left behind: the confusion that changes shape and color like the remnants in a glass of red wine; sitting in the sink, filling with water, turning that wonderful shade of blue gray and then fading completely
Free of these things, I peek into windows
Listen to conversations
Find answers to all the questions without real answers
Is she really crazy?
How much does she really know?
Does he have another life? Ulterior motives?
Could I have prevented this?
Like eyes blinking clear of the haze of sleep.
Free of these things, I see.