Posts in Relationships
Eden Elsewhere

I am running naked down the hall. I am so small, the door knob to the linen closet before me is above my head. I am headed to it, the towels are there, my child feet leave footprints on the wooden floor, droplets fall from my body and leave a trail of splatters, surrounding the mark of toes and heel of a child, naked, dripping, gleeful, emerging from the tub. Now to fetch the forgotten towel, forgotten yet again! Did I forget it in order to take once again this euphoric walk of no shame? My hairless, porcelain child body, my head of wet, wavy, dark brown hair, my eyes on the prize, the linen closet!

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Taking Back My Childhood

Finally being out on my own with no partner and getting my own house at the age of 45 was certainly overwhelming. When I moved into my house over two years ago I immediately decided I was not going to paint over the clouds in what had obviously been the kids room. I said I wanted to "take back my childhood" there. I didn't really know what that would entail at the time. I'm realizing now there have been a lot of things that I've done in that room that may have been spurred by my subconscious, and definitely have to do with nesting and nurturing myself.

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Swimming in Saigon

When I was five years old, my family moved to Saigon, Vietnam. Depending on your politics, or your view of history, we moved there for noble purposes. My father worked at the U.S. Embassy, and we were his dependents. It was safe, was the intended message to the world. American diplomats and their families were welcome, the war was over, nothing to see here.

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At War

I am at war with my body. That realization hit me just a few days ago. But it is a different war than the one we have fought for almost 40 years. I remember how our body used to look in the mirror, especially at the height of our decades-long battle. Ribs protruded, easily countable. Our collarbones could have been used as handles, they stuck out so far. Laying in bed our pelvic bones seemed almost to come through our skin, barely a layer of protection between bone and air.

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The second time around

Over the past weekend I drove Upstate
To attend a wedding of a friend I've
Known for years. This friend who I'll
Call Amina, had been widowed for over
15 years. She kept herself involved with
Church affairs, visiting her grandchildren 
And taking occasional vacations. When
Ever her and I would have a conversation
About being alone after being married for
A long time, we often spoke about the
Loneliness, and dealing with a big void in
Our lives. I too am a widow of four years.

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