floating even higher abovepublished: 2013-07-24
When my husband and I separated, it was a sunny month. I was outside a lot feeling revived. Suddenly, my world had enough oxygen to spare. It had vast open skies. I could imagine what a bird must feel like, soaring through them, viewing the world from above.
The people closest to me would frown in concern. They would advise me, confront me, question whether what I was doing was right. For my son, and for me. In my mind’s eye I’d give them a big, hard push.
There’s not enough room for you. Only for me.
But when a person I hardly knew and who lived on my street asked “so how are you?”, my knees buckled. I held on to her neck and sobbed. She didn’t say much, all she did was smile a little. Everytime I saw her, the same happened. I was doing fine, I said.
Greater wings, she had. Floating even higher above, viewing me in the world below her.
I live on a different street now. It’s sunny and I fly sometimes. When I land, to pick up some food, a woman asks me how I am doing. I cry.