Red Writing Hood: Ugly/Beauty
Stepping from the steaming shower in the pre-dawn hours, I stand dripping for a moment before I wipe my bleary eyes, towel off my hair, dry my body. Most times, I don’t even look at the reflection in the mirror across the room. Autopilot is in effect. I dry, I comb, I brush and style, I stumble out the door to work. Some mornings, though, I stop. Take inventory. Survey the scene. I notice the sagging breasts of motherhood. The puckering stomach. I notice the fragile, wrinkled eyes growing older day by day. I’m still there, but different now. Stronger and more fragile all at once. Inevitably on these days my fingers wander to the scar that stretches across my abdomen. I remember that the nurse in the hospital called it my smile. “How’s your smile feeling?” she had asked. I touch it, still reddened and angry from the hot water. I feel along the full length of it. I notice the “teeth marks”, the places where the staples that put me back together made their own scars
Someone likes pink?
ReplyDeleteColouring is pretty serious if you ask me and my kids.
ReplyDeleteMade me smile :)
ReplyDeleteWe grow up, but never seem to grow out of coloring-love, especially with our children.
Sweet.
~Jo