Cortez, Colorado - She thinks about how life is like music. A rock concert, a symphony, a predictable country song. Life is just a series of musical interludes-good…bad… romance…heartbreak.
She thinks about that night. She is not me. She is one in a million women who are like me…but who are braver than I. Who have once, just once, allowed themselves to be folded in, drawn close, inhaled, cherished. Just once. She is not me.
The music - the ocean. Their bodies - the waves…carried out to the storm. Lightning, thunder, the waves crashing. The women who allow their emotions to take over…to finally fight for themselves. These women are alive. These women will survive.
She is not me. She is brave. She allows herself to be swallowed up, to be devoured, to lose herself in the music, to lose control…just a little control. To close her eyes, inhale the scent as the surge of freedom washes over her – if only for a few hours.
She will live off that freedom. As she wanders back to her real life…drifting through the days. Doing what is right. Doing what she promised…her needs ignored, stifled, unimportant. Still. She is doing what is right. She always does what is right. She is me.
The memories will roll over her – sending electrical waves that will stimulate her heart back to life. She will reminisce a little now and then. Enough to remind her. Remind her that some of it is worth it. That more waits on the other side of this. She will inhale deeply and let those shock waves roll through her, as she closes her eyes and relieves the sensations that will keep her spirit alive. She is not me. She is just one in a million women who are like me. But she is brave.
Because she allowed herself to be folded in, drawn close, inhaled. ~ Vanessa Jane