Tuesday, June 01, 2010
I just found this in my journal. I don't remember writing it, though it was dated just one month ago:
I walk and I walk and I walk and I walk.
I try to walk away.
It's not possible.
I’m always here.
Still here, still here, still here.
I can't forget who I am.
For a minute.
Mommy Mommy Mommy
And I can't forget my stomach,
pushing so defiantly against my waist band.
And how it once was:
always leaving space--
Never hanging loose.
Oh God, no.
So I walk I walk I walk I walk.
Resisting the urge to stay put.
A good wife, with my thumb in the hole,
catching the leaves of our messy life
that just keep dropping, and dropping.
They never stop
An ode to vanity, perhaps? But I'm thinking that, having been an athlete for so many years, my body may be the one thing in my life I have felt I had any control over. You think pregnancy would have set me straight there. Hah. And now, it seems, I'm getting a good talking to. I'm not listening-- fingers in ears, lalalalalalalalalalalalalalala!