I remember waking up
on a lounge chair
beside the sea
on an island
in the Philippines
after a night of partying
and although that makes me sound like a reckless good-for-nothing
I knew that I had found the meaning of life
in the salty air
that filled my nostrils
as I breathed deeply
and gave thanks to the universe
for being alive in this moment.
I do not remember
the first time I cried
over a lover
although I think I may have been 9 years old
and I was ashamed
because I thought my mother would punish me
for liking that boy
when I was too young to have a boyfriend
but more importantly
I was ashamed
because I only said I liked him
because my friends said it was “cool”
to have crushes on boys.
I am looking at
the cross-stitched alphabet
that my grandmother Mary made in 1946
and the jungle of animals that jump within the frame.
When my uncle gifted it to me
he thought I would like it
“because it looks teachery and she was a teacher too”
but when I look at it
all I can think about is
how desperately she wanted to leave the teaching profession
and how it is now my turn to leave it
to make her proud,
the grandmother I never met.
I am not looking at
myself in the mirror, per se,
but rather I am looking for
the person I would like to be.
I am thinking of
quitting my job,
running away,
moving to another country
but I have done that before
so it’s no longer an adventure.
Now the real thrill of life
is coming home to
the same cat every night.
I am not thinking of
staying stagnant forever,
but I have found that
the only way to appreciate movement
is through
purposeful stillness.
I am
a woman
a lover
a Libra
a dreamer
and many more things
that I am still learning
I am not
your daydream
your employee
your plaything
or anything else.
I want to be heard.
I don’t want to be forgotten.
I feel too many things
in the span of a single day
but
I don’t feel
guilty for any of it.
