It used to be maybe twenty,
A mad rush to get to the microwave and then, bathroom
Shuffle food in and maybe a brief second to breathe before you’re on again.
Now?
It’s a calm stroll to the bench; the one that has my name on it, under the watchful eyes of the sun’s rays.
I eat in serenity, breathe in serenity, swinging my legs.
That twenty a distant memory today, for today it’s forty, feels like sixty,
Feels like sixty.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
They are a secret society, A loud parade, A marching band, A cacophony A band of drummers practicing downstairs They Have It And outside alone
I lower my chest and inhale everything blurs the white line in front of me, the screaming crowds. My heartbeat slows and suddenly it’s all
My eyes bulged out of their sockets, ears had surely misheard. But it was true. I had heard right. My father had indeed spoken to
The first time I saw the words “ms. chintha is a bitch” inked on to walls, I was 29 years old. I had been teaching for a mere four years, but felt so veteran already because I had stopped crying when fights happened in or near my classroom among students. Up until my fourth year, I blamed myself for not creating a safe enough space for my students and that’s why they began fighting.