catching a glimpse of myself in the mirrored surface of my phone, canted just so, I see someone surprisingly unfamiliar.
I remember a moment in my 20s when I looked into the mirror after washing my face, and saw myself, really *saw myself* for the first time. As I looked into my own eyes, I teared up, astonished in some way that I existed in some physical form.
I felt so boundaryless, so ephemeral, so untethered.
this is different. a lifetime of boundaries and tethers, edges and banged shins… creaky knees and a neck that just won’t turn like it used to. I am aware of my physical form differently these days, but I keep forgetting somehow it is part of the me, the vessel, the instrument of expression, the interface
and there I was, not 20, not 20 by half and some again, and there is a panging acute longing for more time
I remember a recent reiki session, where the practitioner held my feet, and downloaded the following message “there is enough time”
and I did not find solace in that in that moment, since I am inherently skeptical
I doubted it
I doubt it
but there is enough time to write this,
and now, to return to the kitchen, and pull the pumpkin muffins from their tins with burning fingers, and smell cinnamon and clove
