The Space Between
I’m in the shower, the hot water pouring down my hair and over my skin. I’ve turned the lights off because my head is full and I need to let some of the thoughts tumble from my eyes and slide down the drain.
It’s quiet here. I stepped out of my heels when I walked in the door, and the weight of it settled in around me. It’s comfortable, but I’d never noticed how fully it engulfs me until recently.
I walked the familiar steps from my closet to the shower, dropping clothing as I go. My hair tumbles down out of the messy ponytail when I rake my nails through it, my make up smears and then fades with each stroke of the cloth. When I look up into my reflection, I appear tired and wan. There are dark circles at the corners of my eyes and foundation has hidden the paleness of my cheeks.
Gone is the flawless facade, here now is the reality. Only my eyes seem unchanged. For years when I’ve felt this way I’ve given myself over to a good cry and then lay myself at the altar of Venus. I feel her infuse the water with her energy and the rat of hair smoothes out. The cascade takes away more than just the residue of the day.
Warmth seeps in, and I call up the imagery of spring, of rejuvenation and even though I’m tired, I can feel the difference. When I step out, I see my reflection once more, and there’s a vitality I have called back into myself. My hands work to dry me off and then to caress my own skin, smoothing the talc I use rarely over the road map of history that is my body.
I find pride in myself for all I’ve survived, accomplished, and experienced. The comb glides through my hair that shines like the pelt of a selkie, and I smooth an indulgent facial cream over my cheeks. When I see my own gaze now, it’s less empty. The transitions are becoming easier. Girlfriend Jewel to Wife Jewel, full house to quiet sanctuary.
I still long for a fantasy where I don’t have to transition, where these things all seamlessly fit together. Perhaps some day I will look back on moments like this and feel amusement for where it all lead. For now I turn my head from the echoes of laughs and cries to the serenity of silence and try to appreciate both for their very different melodies in my life.
And then I lay in bed, smooth myself out over the sheets and smile. Regardless of the face in the mirror or the echoes in my mind, I am beloved, and I am so thankful for that. There is so much joy and love in my heart, and I feel truly free to be myself.
It’s quiet here. I stepped out of my heels when I walked in the door, and the weight of it settled in around me. It’s comfortable, but I’d never noticed how fully it engulfs me until recently.
I walked the familiar steps from my closet to the shower, dropping clothing as I go. My hair tumbles down out of the messy ponytail when I rake my nails through it, my make up smears and then fades with each stroke of the cloth. When I look up into my reflection, I appear tired and wan. There are dark circles at the corners of my eyes and foundation has hidden the paleness of my cheeks.
Gone is the flawless facade, here now is the reality. Only my eyes seem unchanged. For years when I’ve felt this way I’ve given myself over to a good cry and then lay myself at the altar of Venus. I feel her infuse the water with her energy and the rat of hair smoothes out. The cascade takes away more than just the residue of the day.
Warmth seeps in, and I call up the imagery of spring, of rejuvenation and even though I’m tired, I can feel the difference. When I step out, I see my reflection once more, and there’s a vitality I have called back into myself. My hands work to dry me off and then to caress my own skin, smoothing the talc I use rarely over the road map of history that is my body.
I find pride in myself for all I’ve survived, accomplished, and experienced. The comb glides through my hair that shines like the pelt of a selkie, and I smooth an indulgent facial cream over my cheeks. When I see my own gaze now, it’s less empty. The transitions are becoming easier. Girlfriend Jewel to Wife Jewel, full house to quiet sanctuary.
I still long for a fantasy where I don’t have to transition, where these things all seamlessly fit together. Perhaps some day I will look back on moments like this and feel amusement for where it all lead. For now I turn my head from the echoes of laughs and cries to the serenity of silence and try to appreciate both for their very different melodies in my life.
And then I lay in bed, smooth myself out over the sheets and smile. Regardless of the face in the mirror or the echoes in my mind, I am beloved, and I am so thankful for that. There is so much joy and love in my heart, and I feel truly free to be myself.
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