(Part of a series: 100 prompts in 100 days or less)
composed on 9/12/12
A girl,
Woman
coming into her own. 35.
I forget sometimes whether my next birthday will bring me to 36, or if I am already there.
Is this what aging is?
Also, in love again.
I should not define myself by that fact,
but it feels overwhelmingly so.
Brown hair, with highlights the color of sunset
Always wanting to dye it some other color, but for now proudly wearing it naturally.
Shaved the sides. Still wants that tattoo I wanted when I was 17. Plus about four more.
A few Grays are starting to show at the temple. Proud of these,
as well as of the slight crinkles that have begun to appear near my eyes.
Badges of honor, I call them. I earned each one through tears and sweat and poverty.
Through midnight laughter and secrets.
Through divorce and through 2 births and one abortion and through late night feedings
and homework that should have been done hours ago but the children needed to be fed and put to bed first. Through reading bedtime stories (one more time, please?) and tucking them in even when all I wanted to do was to put my headphones on and ignore the world for a while.
Through worry for am I doing this right? For is he going to get into college? For is he going to pass that class?
Through sleepless nights not knowing how I would go on, and sleep-walking through my days as a temp-worker, file clerk, receptionist, stay-at-home mama, school secretary, administrative assistant.
Through yoga classes and learning to teach what I love to others. Through massages given and received, energy work, reiki, angels, spirits whispering their dark secrets and their all-knowing wisdom into my ears.
Through remembering of things that I had long since forgotten,
shoved into dark chasms of my mind
to forget. But forgetting isn’t always possible. The mind will not let us forget completely
and we are forced to relive what we have not yet
made our peace with.
And so, the wrinkles near my eyes do not make me
ashamed. I do not try to conceal them
with pancake makeup
or with dark liner.
I wear them proudly, as I wear my heart on my sleeve.
And I continue loving
as hard as I can
Again
and again.
And hope that my smile always shines through my eyes when I look at you.
Even when I am tired.
Copyright 2012 Omy Keyes (All rights reserved)
composed on 9/12/12
A girl,
Woman
coming into her own. 35.
I forget sometimes whether my next birthday will bring me to 36, or if I am already there.
Is this what aging is?
Also, in love again.
I should not define myself by that fact,
but it feels overwhelmingly so.
Brown hair, with highlights the color of sunset
Always wanting to dye it some other color, but for now proudly wearing it naturally.
Shaved the sides. Still wants that tattoo I wanted when I was 17. Plus about four more.
A few Grays are starting to show at the temple. Proud of these,
as well as of the slight crinkles that have begun to appear near my eyes.
Badges of honor, I call them. I earned each one through tears and sweat and poverty.
Through midnight laughter and secrets.
Through divorce and through 2 births and one abortion and through late night feedings
and homework that should have been done hours ago but the children needed to be fed and put to bed first. Through reading bedtime stories (one more time, please?) and tucking them in even when all I wanted to do was to put my headphones on and ignore the world for a while.
Through worry for am I doing this right? For is he going to get into college? For is he going to pass that class?
Through sleepless nights not knowing how I would go on, and sleep-walking through my days as a temp-worker, file clerk, receptionist, stay-at-home mama, school secretary, administrative assistant.
Through yoga classes and learning to teach what I love to others. Through massages given and received, energy work, reiki, angels, spirits whispering their dark secrets and their all-knowing wisdom into my ears.
Through remembering of things that I had long since forgotten,
shoved into dark chasms of my mind
to forget. But forgetting isn’t always possible. The mind will not let us forget completely
and we are forced to relive what we have not yet
made our peace with.
And so, the wrinkles near my eyes do not make me
ashamed. I do not try to conceal them
with pancake makeup
or with dark liner.
I wear them proudly, as I wear my heart on my sleeve.
And I continue loving
as hard as I can
Again
and again.
And hope that my smile always shines through my eyes when I look at you.
Even when I am tired.
Copyright 2012 Omy Keyes (All rights reserved)
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