Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Eyes bandaged, incognito, I get a waiver for smacking into things. I make it down the road, holding close each crippled insect and shiny stone encountered. At journey's end, fuschia moonlight passes around steaming platter after platter of parrilladas. Even through my improvised caul, I taste the familiar constellations thick with barbecue sauce. I fall asleep wondering: Am I teaching my beautiful daughter the things a woman needs to know? Not just to survive, but also to flourish?