Uprooted

A bitter moment

Away in the tiny corners of your room lives the left over magic of childhood. A space that saw so much of you grow and change is now seeing you again as though it were the first time. Yes, sure, the floors need to be swept and the brown boxes need to be broken down. But oh, the magic remembers you and welcomes you back with open arms. With cricket songs, and familiar light. A quiet space to take a bath.
And in the shower, the unknotting begins. The moment when your head clears of everything but steam and you hear your breath for the first time in so long. And you remember that you are precious and important and capable of a great many things. Your hands rest on your shoulders and you roll your head from side to side. Your eyes close and open, close and open. You wiggle your toes. You soap up and wash off and towel down and lay in a bed that has known your shape. Your shape as it has grown. It has held you, in down feathers and cotton blankets for hours. You remember you are going to be ok. That life un-ravels like a ball of yard down the stairs just when you least expect it.
It’s sad. You are sad. But you won’t always feel the weight of this. You are so much stronger now than you were a year ago.
But what good is that really? What good is it to be strong if you don’t have a place in your life to fall into weakly? Someone to hold you. A heart happily captive. A place where you can lay your head safely.
Home is that place still and the people within it, perhaps, the only ones who ever have loved you or ever will.
There is a chance you will be alone forever. That different men will come and explore and leave just as quickly. Or slowly and painfully. The only thing in common is that they are all not right, not right, not right for you.
That you will lay on your death bed and have no hand to hold.
That you will attend every siblings wedding with the wrong person.
And make hard decisions about your parents last wishes without someone’s chest to cry into at night.
That you will never hold a baby that is yours. But will hold many babies who are not.
That you will smile forever at others good news. And congratulate hundreds of newly married couples. And sit at dinner, alone, while your friends engagement rings sparkle like forth of July across the table as they talk of home renovation and Upstate in the Fall.
That you will be the fun Aunt, free spirited friend, willing baby-sitter, thoughtful sister, good daughter.
And never a happy wife.
And go home to a dog that bites you, for no reason at.

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