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.
It’s 4:15PM and I’m desperately attempting to exit the city to make a Zumba class at 5:30. I am parched beyond parched, but still avoiding
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
My mind overwhelms me with questions questions of worth questions of dreams questions of skill I sit alone stewing in preparation for it to come