Name Them One, by One

My grandmother taught me to sing.

My mother taught me to survive. Let down a hem, take up the inseam, substitute one thing for another in a recipe. Ignore the recipe entirely.

My father sends me a bill, every month. A dollar bill, in a letter. So I’ll have at least one bill to look forward to every month.

My siblings keep track of me, even when I forget to reciprocate.

My children were born, and remain, healthy.

I have experienced true joy.    

I have climbed mountains.

In the third grade I reached out and touched my teacher’s hair on an impulse. She didn’t pull away.

I live in a free nation. Free from want, fear, repression, ignorance.  Free to worship according to the dictates of my own conscience.

I know in whom I have trusted.

I can acknowledge all these thigns, yet not abandon my discontent at being me, as I am today. I think this, too, a blessing.

 

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