My jaw has shifted, face now square-ish instead of round
The sporadic silver strands that used to shock people when noticed, now frame my hairline
Breasts once small cones that barely needed a bra, now large womanly teardrops–
Hips wider, chin hairs starting to gray even
Age
My age
gently emerges and with each shift I notice a woman,
who–despite all the “musts” her culture and society handcuffed her with,
chooses to be herself
After all isn’t that the American Dream?
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.
Burning brightly through the window The sun’s ray cut into space Warming every inch Filling it to its brim Crackling kindly from below The fire
I glance across the bridge at you in the distance, now blurred around the edges The old days are lanterns floating gentle into the sky.