just like that, the song comes on, and i'm transported back to my freshman banquet at pearl lake in franklin; hair permed and curled, satin baby-blue dress with the drop-waist and v-back, nylons and white shoes. all of us there together, fresh-faced, childhood cheeks still intact, make-up inexpertly applied with the best intentions. and the song plays, "lean on me", and i remember everyone dancing and holding hands, arms around each other, pretending we were all for one. one for all. and me, being new to the school, to the group, feeling a part of something.
me, always conscious of my first strapless bra pinned to the bottom of the v on the back of my dress, so that it wouldn't show.
cooking soup, now. cooking for my family, in my rented house, in my life away from the town where i was raised, where i started learning about the girl i was, and started the kitchen prep for the woman i was to become.
i look back a lot. i can't help but think that my reality now is wrapped up in my past; that reviewing the few memories that i can recall keeps me in line. this is tricky. sometimes they send me back and i sit there in a state of longing, instead of a state of grace. nevertheless, this is a part of me. my father is the same way. its in my genes, to look behind me and wave with a sad smile on my face, wistfully.
(i just went out to the garage to try to find a picture of me to post with this, and walked in on my daughter playing by herself, for the fifth hour today. she asked me what i was doing, then told me, "i was playing with my imaginary friends. you interrupted us." she then waited until i left. then she started talking to them again. this is what's right in front of me, and it is also good.)
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