The memory of smoke

The memory of smoke

Monday, August 13, 2012

Waking up

Listening to the women at work talk about toddlers they know, whose mothers let them wear whatever outlandish thing they want, because well why not. And I think, yes, why not, why did my mother take it all so damn seriously - how what I wore reflected on her and not just on my age and personal eccentricity? And my long held imaginary relationship fades several more shades, and I let go of a bit more I didn't even realize I was holding on to.

Like letting go of imaginary friends, now that I have real ones.

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