the pearls

My mother taught me how to cut apples. She did not tell me how to cut my losses.

There was a point in time, sometime in my senior year of high school, where I could have done anything, been anybody I wanted to be for the rest of my life. I chose to be an artist. Why wasn't I the guy who figured out peanut butter and apples tasted great together? Why was I instead the girl who repeatedly figured out you and I wouldn't work out after all. I'm going through my clothes, fitting into my new space by cutting out the weeds, and I have created a pile of clothes from ex boys and boyfriends. There it is, my entire dating history right in front of me and again, I find myself at a crossroads. Which do I throw out and finally leave behind forever? Which do I save for another 6 months? And which, do I secretly tuck in the back of my drawers for a night when lonely is just too cold?

I threw them all away.

Unfortunately for me, the very night I took out the trash was the very night I could've used pretending there was someone here with me. I'm up, crying, something I haven't done in a while. One of my friends says he admires me because I just ask what I want to know, so instead of tolerating being haunted by two hidden hands of cards...I asked. And I was told.

The funny thing about getting what you want is that you get it. Then that's just it. No more mystery. No more maybes. Done deal Mr. Postman. I shut off my computer immediately following my enlightenment. I was hollow, but hollow is lighter. I put on a pretty little nightgown and a string of fake pearls. Single girls put on the lingerie they never get to wear on nights like these. I looked and thought I didn't look half bad. Then I cried to remember just who it was that gave me the confidence lesson. I stopped crying to think about what I would give to be sitting on the front porch in Vernon right now. Bare feet and the Big Dipper. I even calculated travel time. I wanted to leave him waiting in the morning and never ever come back. But I have unfinished business and Daddy said you can never run away from yourself. I laid in Michelle's bed with the 4 things that have been with me every important and unimportant day of my life, and muffled until I couldn't breath through my nose. Then I got up and floated precisely to my computer. Artists don't sob, they create.

I have no more questions your Honor, the jury is free to come or go. The trial is over and life shall be far more difficult than death. I knew I couldn't count on you guys. I'll have to write my own sentences now.


My mother never taught me this lesson. She never told me to watch out for falling hearts, or to look both ways before crossing lines. She probably knew I had to be in my own right places at the wrong times. But she did teach me to prevail. That being me meant being strong enough to take any apple thrown my way. And that's not just as good, that's better.







...Ricky.