A spritz of salty sea water sweeps my skin, wisps of thin hair tickle my cheek, under the fleecey warmth of our sun.
This coast, these concrete paths, the speckles of diamonds skipping across the bay, this weaving breeze that kisses the back of my neck–all of whom greet me as family.
And I, like a dog shaking off his fur to get dry, sit in the middle of this pier shaking off the rest of the world.
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.
She sees the curves of her body from top to bottom. Some are pleasing, some annoying. Images of beauty scroll past her mirror, they reflect
thirty on paper in truth, it’s twenty it’s all I have yours, ours, mine 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and then– twenty to eat, rest, talk–