third gear in reverse

At first glance it may appear I have not been up to much. I was shocked to notice I had not posted since May. And now summer is turning that particular gold, burnished and skidding downhill faster than I anticipated. But I feel no nostalgia. No regret.

I am through this process called menopause- two months past the year mark for no bleeding. There was no ceremony, no amethyst clad women nearby to raise a glass to my hard won rebirth. It was an ordinary day like any other. I stirred peppers and onions in olive oil and garlic and walked after dinner along the arroyo, the young rabbits along the road leaping to the safety of junipers in shadow.

My body is relieved. The nights are friendlier- though my clock is realigning toward a later bedtime and I am devouring words well past midnight, reading like I used to before I had babies. I had my long hair cut to celebrate. I am reinventing the woman I used to be. Spinning my own magic from bits of straw and weeds.

I am not sure yet where I am going. Or what will snag my interest. If I will be a painter. Or a poet. Or write a script about a woman, someone I used to know, or thought I did.

Or perhaps I invented her, cobbling disparate pieces of memory and duty and dreams. She is almost a stranger to me now. Like a character in a movie I once saw. You know, that actress- I can't remember her name. But it's not easy to determine these things. To peel back the past and keep only what is true. There's a lot that no longer fits. There are skins that itch to be shed. Old habits that are losing their velvet grip. Patterns and assumptions that chafe and seem absurd. Even comical.

There is suddenly so much space, so much sky now. The burned and smoldering archetypal barn has been raked through and sifted and the ashes were buried or flipped into the north wind. This bare-armed hefting adolescence in reverse evokes the sensation of free falling back into girlhood.

Like that first solo bike ride after a stifling family dinner when you finally wiggled away and peddled down the driveway past the porches past the neighborhood into the indigo evening air, unsure of the territory, grip strong, clean faced, exhilarated, with no map in your pocket but your belief in possibility.


Karina Allrich © 2005-2009