I M Perfect lady

Ghosts from my past can walk up at anytime and say hello. They can ask how I am doing and then go for a swim. They can lay on the beach and read for hours near me.

 

It is all curious.

 

Curious we are sisters.

 

Living worlds apart.

 

Very close today.

 

Completely different.

 

Other relatives swam – I didn't recognize them.

 

A beautiful beach afternoon – overcast with memories.

 

Sunshine, warm sand, clear water – two strangers now.

There is much unknown.

Her path and mine.

 

I don't know hers.

She can't know mine.

 

Words that could fill the lake – would leave us both exactly where we are.

 

Estranged.

 

The little wave – when we first recognized each other – would have been enough acknowledgement for me.

 

I am curious – but not really wanting to engage.

 

So, it was shocking to hear a voice come up along side of me – saying Hi.

 

The pleasant niceties lasted a minute or two.

 

I wonder what propelled her to me.

 

Being kind?

We both brought family with us to the lake.

Our chance encounter – wasn't like we 'wanted' to meet. That she sought me out – but once I was in her line of vision – she approached.

 

Not the time for deep investigating into her world – into her choices and how were they working.

 

Comparing – maybe our lives.

I would have questions – how would she answer.

Who is she now?

I wonder if her denial is deeper – or are there cracks starting to show.

 

I wonder what she saw as she looked at me?

 

Mostly I watched two girls play, giggle and have the best day.

I sat there grandma – grateful of my choice to be estranged.

Grateful for the separation.

Hand stitching on a quilt.

Sun warm on my body.

Waves in my ear.

My heart at peace with my choice.

 

The ghosts of my past were on the left of me – and on my right the future.

Her innocence is worth the distance I have walked from my family of origin – worth feeling the awkwardness of a stranger we once knew.

 

Sitting there I felt my age or maybe more, my wisdom and empowerment – my strength.

 

The day changes with these encounters – they leave an essence on me – a brush with the past – a lingering of wonder.

 

I would love a real deep dive into the truths of our lives.

And yet it would be horrifying.

 

I wonder if she would have sat to have an eye to eye – heart to heart chat?

 

Perhaps if we were alone.

 

I wonder what she'd really want to know about me?

 

Lately nieces have asked to be my friend on Facebook and Instagram. An easy way to approach someone – a distant relative.  I wonder what the nieces would like to know about me?

More, I wonder what they have been told. 

 

I am the oldest girl in this family of women.

An odd character – I left before some of them were born – or just little babies.

They have always known me as the odd man out.

The old aunt who doesn't come around.

 

Part of me would love to know their hearts and yet my heart probably couldn't bear it.

 

The reason for my estrangement comes front and center. The power that propelled me was abuse – my heart knew it couldn't be with those who could see the side of the abuser(s) more than the child.

 

Sitting on the beach today two sides were there.

We both stood on different sides. 

Between us years of silence.

 

A photograph of the beach scene today – would not reveal all the interconnected disconnected strings of relatives – together on a beach separated.

 

All I know is that if any woman/girl in this relative pool asks me why I am out here – my heart will be at peace – for I can fully own my choices to be on this side of history.

The girls who walked away.

 

Girls who found their self-worth.

 

Girls who left trying to end the cycle of abuse.

 

Girls who felt the truth in the bodies that never lie.

 

Girls who left family – to save family.

 

 

I see the relative girls and I wonder.

Wonder what has been communicated and what stays silent.

Wonder if I spoke – would I be heard.

 

As I go to bed tonight – my heart and soul are peace with the road I am on.

I can't know how the women relatives sleep.

 

I wonder if one day I will have a heart to heart with one of them.

I hope one is curious as I am.  Who wants to know about the family tree's outcast and why her limb is different.

Today I didn't feel the shame or negative feelings of being different.

Being different today feels like a fun piece of art.

A freedom of expression.

Perhaps like an eccentric aunt.

 

An odd caricature in the circle of women relatives.