April 27, 2021

“I” statements

I want to tell you how beautiful the light is here, a strata of blues darkening
the further I look up. I want to say how good the spaghetti was just now,
arranged as it was in the red ceramic dish with the scalloped edges, which gave
the meal a shape I hadn’t expected. I want to admit that for certain things I have
so much patience, my heart stretching effortlessly, and for others my whole body
narrows into such reedy agitation, it feels like I could break. I want to remember
that I cannot blame myself for every failure. I want to keep looking in the garden
for metaphors. I want to put screens on the porch windows, let in more air. I want
to stop being afraid of what I don’t know. I want to have my mother’s hair, my sister’s
clarity. I want to keep starting over, leaning in, and listening as if for the first time.