The Waves of Feminine Mystery
She said it’s no wonder I don’t want children - I’m a child.
I grinned.
She said I’m in a job with no prospects.
She said that my life is chaos.
I let her emotions play out like the cascade of waves that inevitably rise when the wind is at its nigh.
The words were symptomatic of underlying frustrations that are more about her than me.
When the waves were more still and her interior inventory was smoother, on many different occasions, she was apt to share different words.
She’d say I’m special, that I’m smart, that she likes my eyes, that I’m gorgeous, beautiful, funny, amazing, grounded, intelligent, and that she loves the way I speak.
Those too were just waves.
They would be distressful or flattering - if I took them seriously.
But I no longer take the words literally.
Instead I just witness the waves.