a girl, a woman, a grandmother
Posted: October 27th, 2008, 10:31 pm
when she was young enough to wear party shoes, the kind with little buttons and itchy dresses that poofed out, she went to birthday parties carrying a gift her mother picked out. The other kids were loud and boisterous and seemed to think her poofy dress was amusing. It was the first taste of rejection.The mothers all stood by ; versions of vogue and ccigarette smoke wafting from red lipstick and thin waistlines that spoke of vanity and beauty from an american astronats piont of view. The perfect woman had the grace to look her best.In those days milk was delivered to the door in glass bottles.The smell of coffee permeated the air like incense in an indian ashram.The ads in the magizines were designed to encourage having a modern car that was glamourous. the war babies of the second world war were enticed by the industrial revolution.Children were seen but not heard, except in my case. I was the entertainment for the drunken Hollywood stars that graced our home on grammy s night to bet on who would win best actress, best picture and best supporting actors and actresses. My sister and I were sent to bed, but not before singing"let me entertain you, let me make you smile..."
Laughter could be heard until the wee hours of the night.I dreamt of the day when I would be a woman and I would have children and my own life.I did not know that meant being responsabile and paying bills.I did not know what love felt like between a woman and a man.
The transition from girl to woman was a long one. I suppose I was a late bloomer or having far too much fun as an adolelescent.I ran away. I went to New Orleans. I ate sweet pastries along the Mississippi river. I danced to creole zydeco.I walked around barefoot like a lost child with indian blood.Cocroaches are huge in New Orleans. They own the land.
When I became a woman I had been married a few times, had sundanced for four years and recieved a BA in college. It happened in stages of awareness, and my sisters [friends] saved my ass. I found a man that loved me, and I love him deeply. It was the profound depth that made me realize I was a woman.I love my children. I somehow still wish that they loved me the way I am. They are always telling me what I could do to make my life better.Maybe my grandmother knew more than she let on. Her wisdom seemed to be to let it go and be peaceful. She danced. She was happy at 92.
I wanted to be someone. I wanted to be loved. A woman knows what I mean.I cry tears of regrets, of sadness of cleansing.I am still trying to experience what it means to be a woman.it changes everyday.
Laughter could be heard until the wee hours of the night.I dreamt of the day when I would be a woman and I would have children and my own life.I did not know that meant being responsabile and paying bills.I did not know what love felt like between a woman and a man.
The transition from girl to woman was a long one. I suppose I was a late bloomer or having far too much fun as an adolelescent.I ran away. I went to New Orleans. I ate sweet pastries along the Mississippi river. I danced to creole zydeco.I walked around barefoot like a lost child with indian blood.Cocroaches are huge in New Orleans. They own the land.
When I became a woman I had been married a few times, had sundanced for four years and recieved a BA in college. It happened in stages of awareness, and my sisters [friends] saved my ass. I found a man that loved me, and I love him deeply. It was the profound depth that made me realize I was a woman.I love my children. I somehow still wish that they loved me the way I am. They are always telling me what I could do to make my life better.Maybe my grandmother knew more than she let on. Her wisdom seemed to be to let it go and be peaceful. She danced. She was happy at 92.
I wanted to be someone. I wanted to be loved. A woman knows what I mean.I cry tears of regrets, of sadness of cleansing.I am still trying to experience what it means to be a woman.it changes everyday.
