A Snapshot

Our palms were locked.
“You know? I believe that the palms hold a lot of energy. When you touch something or someone with the palm of your hand you are really transferring a lot of energy to that thing. Holding hands with someone is so personal. It’s not something I do everyday.” I mused. I looked at the ten fingers interlocking. It almost all looked like it could have come from the same hand. I looked back at him, checking for what his response might be. There was morning sunlight blasting the room full of color, so that his blue eyes looked really clear. I took a mental snap shot. He smiled.
My sister told me she sees change in me every time she sees me. We were sitting on the couch in my living room sharing stories of childhood. The impromptu muffins we threw together with the ingredients lying around in my kitchen were baking in the oven downstairs.
“Really, Cait? I’m so different? It’s only been a few weeks…”
“Yeah, remember that time you told me I looked like I lost weight? And I said, I just gained confidence?”
“uh huh”
“Well, I didn’t mean to say that I disagreed with you. I could tell you were giving me a compliment. And, I might have lost weight, but what I meant was: I just feel so good about my body. I feel like I’ve really come to love myself. It’s still a struggle sometimes, but I love what I am. And I can see that in you.”
I looked at myself at that moment. I felt as if I was suddenly looking into a mirror which was facing another mirror, like in the bathrooms of a Greek Diner in Queens, when you can see yourself and the back of your head stretch off into oblivion. Each time getting smaller, but still reflecting enough to keep the next image going, as if you are forever multiplying another version of yourself. In that moment, I saw another reflection. 
I was back in the snap shot moment in my sunlit room. I looked at the floor: clothes were strewn about. My bra was mocking me as it lay on the floor by my dresser… yeah, last night’s activities didn’t give me a chance to really put any clothes away.
I didn’t care.
“We should get something to eat. I’ve got eggs. And I can make some coffee.” I said. Looking back at him. I felt calm and collected, unlike my room. This is new and exciting. And, even if it were to end tomorrow, I feel different, like I lost a few pounds of anxiety and replaced it all with fluffy carefree clouds. 

October 17, 2012 at 5:13 am by Natalie Allen