Saudade
I chose the pink cotton dress, woven cotton with cream lace.
After the party, he didn’t want to help me clean, he didn’t
want me to clean in the morning, and there was no one else coming to help. So,
I stayed up until 4:30am clearing, washing, and putting away the impromptu
dinner party—he had decided to bring eight people home for dinner at the last
minute. I cooked and hosted. No one spoke to me. I was a servant. But the
townhouse was clean and when the light streamed through the high windows, I
picked the pink cotton dress to bed. That clean home was the last moment of
peace I remembered before I left.
I chose the three quarters length, white satin slip.
The mouthy staircase wound into the living room and I
slipped from the living room into the sunlight on the vine garden patio. Just
back from swimming with seals and colorful fish, the night impossibly sultry…
romantic… the night sky beautiful beyond anything I could have ever dreamed.
I chose the flower-purple chemise.
A peacock was resting in my window when I woke. The lavender
rooftops and the gardens, the mist on the ground that gave the townspeople
magical properties so that they would float past the mango tree. This was after
diving among the coral reefs.
I chose the flowy blue cotton and silk with little flowers.
Whitewashed walls and a small flower mural. Mexican tiles
and warm air. Sipping tea and looking over my garden. Fruit, cheese, nuts, and
bread. This was after ATV-riding to the lighthouse where I could see the
Pacific blending into the sea.
I felt like I was glowing from within. I felt loved by the
world, by the earth, purely loved.
Every beach, every stroll down a foreign street, every
encounter with nature and animals, every bit of happiness and life and joy
seemed like stolen moments. These were moments that I should not have had, that
I was never given, and no one expected me to have, certainly not my mother, my
grandmother, or my great grandmother, and beyond.
Maybe I recognized then as I know now that no one wanted me
to have these moments. I’d stroll with… not quite a sense of ownership and
belonging, but one of confidence and discovery. Maybe a person needs to be
naïve to experience novelty in the world.
I’ve had my share, but like an addict I couldn’t stop
craving more… more life. Then I discovered that sometimes life changes… the
light becomes not as bright, the water not as sweet. I was left wondering
whether I’d feel it course through me again. I don’t know how to stop wanting
and wanting and wanting more.
Saudade
There was a time when I wasn’t able to sleep for three or
four nights. One played the guitar ever so softly and gently until I fell
asleep. A personal lullaby that I would recognize if I ever heard it again. If
I ever heard it again.
There was a time when I was pulled to the inside and away
from the curb, to be protected by another.
A time when I was shivering in the cold. I was held to keep
warm and kissed on the forehead by yet another.
I was held once while I cried, until I finished crying about
life. It was 25 years later than it should have been, but it finally was.
A jacket offered, a motorcycle ride while wearing a dress,
photo shoots, songs and poetry composed about me, fiction written with me in
mind… yet…
Yet, who will remember me when I’m gone? My second death
will be the same as my first.
Saudade
I used to want more first kisses. Now, I want one last first
kiss. Maybe I already know his initials, maybe it’s wishful thinking. I used to
want to keep traveling and bouncing from place to place. Now, I want to build a
home.
Saudade
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