I arrive at this rebirth, a long-awaited taxi pulling up in a winter’s downpour. I called this cab years ago, at that first tiny self hatred that started it all: When I stepped on that caterpillar outside Ms. Harris' class.
The cab arrives at a party. Small mouths pry: What do you do? Heavy brows furrow at: I forgave myself today. Strangers ask me my name but I don’t know what it is so I dive into the pool and suddenly everything is muffled and at peace, and I am discovering the joy of my hands outstretched in the water.
This must be *******: colors pulse touches ****** bird songs are Vivaldi, or maybe this is just what it’s like to clasp my hands to hear the rain to think one single mundane thought without shame.
I hail another cab, but this time my sins are huddled in the back seat. They gaze up at me with familiar pleading eyes. They caress my cheek with skeleton fingers. It’s time to go home and watch the Price is Right like we always do. They are hurt that I went anywhere without them. I stroke their oily hairs and hold them as we fall asleep. But when I come to they’ve faded away and I awake embracing myself.