Questa è Enida

Looking at Enida in the mirror the other day, I got thinking…what else does she not have now?

Love?
She’s got love rolling down to her feet, curving around her fingers, and running through her hair, sitting across dinner table holding her hands, and on Saturday mornings making pancake breakfast from the heart. And more love…sitting on their booster seats in the back, playing Tunnel-Duck.

Money?
Of course is never enough to buy her the Coach or Gucci bag or a Beamer she never wants. She’s got roof over her head, unloaned. And that’s just what money can buy…be it here, or across the Southern Ocean. Over the years she has learned, that money is what she makes, she spends time spending, and she saves. But money will never make her, spend time with her, nor will it save her.

I looked at Enida the other day as she fell down to the ground thanking heavens for all that she does not have. She’s thankful for not having to carry the weight of the world not knowing why happiness is the only car she desires that never passes her street. She’s grateful for not having to untangle lies she ever told, for there is none she hides. She has made peace with her past.

Enida is just happy for having done what she has done, been what she has been – and not claiming to be a perfect untouchable immortal that she’s not. She has hurt and she has been hurt. She lets herself feel the pain at times. But she knows…the pain comes from what she’s growing on her back.

She just wants to be a butterfly in her next life.