Dear Rain,
thank you, and the wind, now will you please wash this day away. Wash away the dentist, and the reminder that my teeth have been falling apart for years now, and aren’t I always just going to be a poor kid with bad teeth. No matter the degrees I get, or how much capital I accrue, I will be a kid whose dad is arguing with the receptionist who is married to the man with the DMD.
And thank you to the stylist with the opening in his schedule, even when I rang at ten am, and wanted to be seen at noon. Thank you for the chair that was open – and the hair color, that can cover up any angst. And, thank you for the scissors, that could cut my hair, and make me look like someone else.
Because today, I long to be someone other than who I am. And in the mirror, as I catch a half glance of myself as I walk by to bed – it is someone else who looks back, she does not have bad teeth, her dentist isn’t short with her, her life looks more put together.
Dear rain, you are the perfect soundtrack for the story whose pages I flip through on this dreary evening – the one that has keeps mentioning things, as if I could have written it instead. Dear rain, please stay for a bit, and your friend, the wind too. Settle in, stay a while, be what I need tonight.
with love,
me
