Who am I?
I am above all else, my father’s daughter.
I am also a little universe. Changing seasons like changing masks. Light and warm, sometimes cold. But I truly love the rain. Wet skin. Hair soaked. Clothes clinging tightly to a shivering body. Sunshine is good, but I also love the dark. And I feel most alive when the sun goes down. In this universe that is me, music is always playing…stormy days are for making love…empty space does not exist because stacks of books live there…mornings are a little brighter after a cup of coffee…office talk is better with hot tea.
And a decade of memories, longings, love, heartbreak, celebration, and moments of grief exist inside journals beside my bed. Words are carefully selected. Pictures capture random moments in time that busy minds forget. Forgiveness is the only option. Passion is uncontainable. And at times, a little animalistic.
I am almost always happy. When I get sad, I cry. And then I get angry. And when I get angry, I shut the world out. I don’t scream, I don’t break things, I don’t burn bridges. I simply shut the world out. I don’t fall in love with people easily. But when I do, I do so without conditions. I do fall in love with places, with moments in time, with concepts, with abstract thoughts about the way the world works. I fall in love with stories. And I fall in love with souls. I believe in magic. I believe in paradoxes that many could not understand: sad songs can take away our sadness, busy streets can make us feel alone, we can be simultaneously happy and unhappy. We can be broken, yet whole. In this little universe, blank canvases are beautiful too, books are alive, you need at least two glasses to really taste the wine, cleaning house half-dressed makes the task much more tolerable, good friends are there even when you don’t know that you need them, loving someone is a luxurious prison, and everything is art.
Also…in my little universe, I write. LITERARY FICTION. Poetry, short stories, criticism, book reviews, and daily musings that transform the noise in my head into some living organism composed of ink and blank sheets of paper. Words. Who am I? What am I? Daughter. Mother. Wife. Writer. Humanist. And……………..just a little universe.