So, hello blog! Hello internet! I am back!
Incidentally, I had time and a pen earlier, and I recorded a moment of real life that I thought, if properly worded, could launch me back into writing.
So here you go, the mostly un-edited moment of my day that made me stop and think, and then stop and write.
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"You finished your Mother's day shoppin' yet?" A woman draped in a purple linen scarf entered my store. I noticed the black turban style hat she had so naturally wrapped around her hair.
"Mmm." I replied with a closed smile, reminding myself to call my Mom later.
"Well, just give that a read, you may want to add it to y.." I wasn't sure if she trailed off or if I missed the last few words. She gently handed me a poem, printed on stationary and stretched between two wooden rods reminiscent of an ancient scroll.
The mind criticizes, the eyes dash, and I grin.
The letters "MOTHER" fall singularly along the left side, beginning each line. Familiar words, speaking of the love and power of a mother, something I know well enough not to need another hallmark-card to tell me.
"Did you write that?," I delicately ask, she nods, "It's wonderful!" I add, in compliment.
I passed the scroll-poem back to her.
She moved, with a grace that given only to wise women, saying, "I'm introducing her to the world."
She looked me in the eye. I felt her deep, in that part of us which sisterhood lives, and my smile warmed to show teeth.
"I think it's about time." She stated, firing up the part of me where feminism grows.
Quickly, I reply, "I think the world is ready for it."
Looking at me, she softly nodded in what felt mysteriously and mutually understood.
She continued down the side walk with poem in hand, moving strong against the slow and steady breeze.
