Flowers

 


That first post was a mite heavy, n’est-ce pas? Sorry. The mere fact that I can talk and be listened to by other women is so novel I can’t resist the temptation to talk. Sorry. Sorry for saying sorry. What we do, right? Why?

I’ve got the hormones in now, and I find myself weeping a lot. I’m not going to spend much time talking about sex. Womanhood is not mostly about sex. Except for men, of course. Flowers make me weep. I don’t know. The smell, the perfect petals. I just find myself crying.

Here are some fun things about new womanhood. I get to pose in front of the mirror, take hours doing my makeup. I can use as much time as I want preparing and sipping tea. But flowers? When I was on the other  side of the fence, I never knew.

They used to be a chip in the game. A chip you always knew to play when you cheated or had forgotten important anniversaries. Now I know there are NO unimportant anniversaries.

Important, fun things. First, flowers. Like a baby on the doorstep. You can cradle them, smell them, love them, bloom by bloom. Never knew any of that till now.

What else? Have to admit it. Shoes. My family was in the shoe business a hundred years ago. Maybe it’s genetic.







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