Sitting, working, sheet music in hand, a pie in the making
She sat on the counter while ingredients mixed and I can’t help but think
this is happiness.
18 years of silence and tension, followed by disjointed attempts at love, ending in a mishmash of self fulfilling prophecies, my efforts useless.
And at 24 I realize in my kitchen is hope. This is what love looks like and why I am relaxed. Because you are baking, and there is music playing, and I am sitting at the table learning to read the notes on a piano. And you like me and you know me and we are all together in one house and we are living in the moment and we do not hate each other. We do not wish we are somewhere else.
And I have never had that. I like to be silent and watch groups of people that get along, prefer it to talking, and now I know why. Because for 18 years men and women hated each other in my home. And for the next 6, I was scared. And now here it is, in front of me, and I can’t react properly. I am awkward amidst simple peace. And I am sad what should be normal is foreign.
I am not as strong as I look. In fact, I am as weak as you think I am strong. I am a wounded survivor. And now in this room is beauty in life. I will never get my 24 years back. But tonight is a glimpse of what I will fight for my future to be like. I don’t know how to make it happen. I don’t know how to talk to you. I don’t know how to love. I am awkward and unnatural. I am self conscious and scared. I just want to sit here and watch and let the moment surround me. Just let me sit here wanted and not in the way. All I want is for you to let me stay.