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    dots Submission Name: Sumation of 8 yearsdots

    Author: jessie thomas
    ASL Info:    24/F/Alabama
    Elite Ratio:    4.13 - 299/338/79
    Words: 489
    Class/Type: Poetry/Me
    Total Views: 1283
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3450


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    dotsSumation of 8 yearsdots

    I am 24.
    I am a woman.
    I am a mother.
    I feel like a small child.
    Sometimes I look around…
    my job,
    my husband,
    my son.
    When did all of this happen?
    Sometimes I feel, deep in my
    That I’m still that 17 year old.
    Hopeful. Wander Lust. So clueless.
    She went on to live with a man 19 years her senior.
    For four years.
    He destroyed her.
    Bit by bit.
    Hope, soul, confidence.
    For years with words,
    But after they both knew it was
    It was with his fists.
    She let this happen.
    She started classes before high school graduation.
    She ended it a year and a half later, by driving an hour and fifteen minutes to school every day,
    To sleep in the parking lot.
    She just… didn’t..
    Didn’t go to class,
    Or try to catch up.
    She let this happen.
    So Chapter II
    After the black eye,
    and a bout of homeless/possessionlessness, [yeah, I did.]
    She had made it out of town.
    An hour away from all she knew.
    Perfect neighborhood.
    Sworn off relationships.
    Ready to fly.
    Then he rode up on his motorcycle.
    Is he really looking at me?
    She departed her new home.
    Spongebob underwear, determined to return alone.
    The he kissed her.
    Wearing L.A. Woman.
    One night turned to
    Passion. Creativity.
    Fucking, Freedom.
    He takes her hand to dance…
    Spins her, dips her.
    When she rises again they’re at the altar.
    Sweet, Simple, Short ceremony.
    The most unintentionally perfect reception.
    Months of planning,
    But they played it by ear.
    Sometimes good things do happen.
    Four months later…
    Even before she took the test she knew.
    40 Weeks and 3 days.
    Excitement. Anticipation. Worry.
    So much change in such an amount of time.
    The 8 lb 2 oz little boy pops out into the world and she is changed.
    Body and Soul.
    Seven months later, she’s beginning to get the hang of things.
    She tends to wander now, in fog.
    Day by day.
    Making it.
    Getting ready. Or trying, anyway.
    But ready for what?
    The seventeen year old stares into a mirror.
    Slightly disappointed.
    Stretch marks—ok…
    Drooping, tired breasts,
    She’s now recalling snide comments…
    “Why doesn’t she just buy pants that fit.”
    Now she understands..
    Therapy on the horizon.
    She’s watching a lifetime reel,
    Days and days of
    The family business, just getting by.
    Now frozen with indecision.
    It’s important to note:
    She regrets nothing.
    Old scars renamed experience.
    Elton John. KISS. So much swimming…
    Lucero. Miles of river.
    Memphis. Florida.
    She should be happy.
    Everything awful she’s weathered.
    Abuse-Emotional, sexual, physical.
    Now she has everything.
    She should be happy.
    There are solutions.
    Ways to make the mirror between the 17 year old
    And the mother
    A charm of the past.
    Now she just has to find them…

    Submitted on 2016-02-17 14:12:03     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Did I already mention how beautiful I find this? It's a lovely way to sum up the time that has passed, and goes quite smooth and swift until you're at the end, and, in my case, wondering what comes next. Like lori_tab says, someone that is a woman or mother can find inspiration in this, hope, and feel, while reading your words, that she is not alone, and she isn't the first person to feel this way.

    You're beautiful and I appreciate everything about you :)
    | Posted on 2016-02-27 00:00:00 | by Raivn | [ Reply to This ]
      A mirror is such a common theme in writing and yet your use of it is so genuine and vivid I feel like it is an epiphany for the piece.

    I think the reflection of self can lead us down many paths. What destination is ahead I only know of clues. We don't always know where we will end up and this piece has the heartfelt notion of hone that the 17 yr old has plenty of romance left between her and the world.

    I think this piece is a perfect rendition of that hope coming true. I hope itninspires all mothers and women as it has done me.
    | Posted on 2016-02-18 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]

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