Forgotten Memory

“That’s stupid.”

Silence. The jaw dropping kind.

Tension slides out of my chest, pooling in my belly, deep and low and round, drowning my ovaries in its heaviness.

Dread, mixed with Knowing, now take residence in my chest.

Time really can stop. And, Dread and Knowing are a calming combination. Who knew?

I take a deep breath, trying to create space around Dread, Knowing, and Tension to create space for clear thoughts.

“No, this is not stupid. What I want out of life is not stupid.”

I stare back. This is a battle moment. I will not break the gaze. I am staking my claim, taking my stand. I’m sitting, but my spine roots itself to the wooden bar stool.

The gaze is broken, but not by me.

Dread and Knowing tell me I’ve won, but this victory means the end. This is the kind of win you hold over your head but then muddy up with hiking boots. It’s dirty and messy.

I’d forgotten this exchange. I’m sorry I have remembered, but this memory, laced with the blackness that results from window shades dropping and cracking against the windowsill, is the same memory that opened the door.

Doors are easier to pass through than windows.