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.
Eight days before November 1st, I made a commitment to attempt NaBloPoMo. I was scared, anxious, excited. I wondered if anyone would actually care and
back home a loneliness fills the reality of it ending the fantasy blown away by the winds of truth unpack rearrange call him call her
The first time I had grits was a rainy Sunday brunch at a shi-shi French-Southern restaurant in West Nashville. I had their version of shrimp
Wispy strands of air whip my body, a gentle massage only a winter’s morn can provide; I tilt my chin up into the brilliant blue