I didn’t start out like this. I was a goddess, a fearless warrior eager for the unchartered. I was happy at birth, an easy smiley baby; always trusting, overly naïve. I took for granted that kindness was around me.
I grew up, acquired the hate and problems and stuff and distraction. I do not want to live in any old house with four walls, filled with rules and regulations and misconceptions. I don’t want to be shallow, undisciplined, unaware, indecisive and unforgiving. I don’t want to be the enabler. I have not added the characters to this story because they don’t count. I prefer to stick with the simple, the animals and the trees.
I look out at the sad, pre-conditioned faces and am returned to the lost feelings. I taste the screams building up in my throat, the hurling accusations. I immediately remove myself from the physical, and loose the same old, same old. I practice deep breathing and kind thinking.
I grasp onto the red bench, the red robin, the positive forces rewiring my thoughts and I walk across the page releasing it all.
I don’t care if you see the weakest part of me, the ugly truths. I am imperfect, diseased, damaged and pre –conditioned, but so are we all. I am aware of my misgivings, and the surface. I am face to face with the short temper, the judgment, the fears, the Venetian masks I wear for your fancy. Right now, I am checking out.
I will not allow you to judge me, I will hand you all my unholy on a silver platter.
You may do with me whatever you please. I have begun; I am the walkabout. I have mulled it over on a red bench for days and months. I have sat and stirred and worried over nothing. I have worn down the rubber soles on my shoes. I am convinced that certain is nothing. I am loosing the broken record.
I am fearless, a fairytale princess young at heart, serene and at home on the beach. In my most perfect, well lived in modern, sea-legged, sturdy house. I am a deserted beach at sunset, with no timetable in view basking in warmth and color. I am healthy and mind free, delighted to casually wander about.
The Red Bench excerpt © 2009 by Jacqueline Cioffa