Wednesday, September 21, 2005

who am i?

I am a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a friend. A lover. A partner. A burden, and a pain. I am loved.

I am the girl who lives in the land of eternal summer, and misses the fall. I am the girl who loves the cold, and the damp sweet smell of falling snow, and the dust of flakes on her eyelashes, her black wool coat, their soft settling on her uncovered head. You passed me on the quads just the other day: headphones in my ears, singing out loud between Kent and Cobb.

I am the girl whose heart you broke – only you couldn’t, because it was never entirely yours, even when I thought I had given it to you, only to have it thrown back in my face. I am the girl to whom you haven’t spoken for months –for a year?- I am the girl you swore would always be your friend. I am the girl who broke your heart, because she didn’t know what to do with such a gift, and shamefully handed it back, even as it broke her heart to do so.

I am the girl who played carom and drank iced lemon tea on hot July afternoons to watch your PE class play some ball game or another in the netball court. I watched the sunlight on your hair, and the carefree way you smiled and the sound of your laughter, and dreamed hopeless of the day you would smile at me that way. But the mystery of the unattainable was far more attractive and far less terrifying than the reality of you.

I am the girl who names her car (Roxanne) and her laptop (Portia) but not her cellphone or her iPod, because, well, they don’t have names. I am the girl who professes to be a feminist, but loves it when you open the door, or hold the elevator, or wait for me to exit the lift before you do. I wear girly clothes and girly shoes, but really would be much more comfortable in flipflops and jeans. I am the girl you treat like ‘one of the guys’.

I am the girl who has loved you since she knew what it meant to love. Who has had you in her heart as the standard against which all men are measured, and against whom all other men come up short. I am the girl who reached for your hand to hold when she was scared, and never failed to find you, right there, waiting for me. I am the girl who wishes she could always be that person, for you.


Post a Comment

<< Home