Self Looks at I Am
It's a pause in the play.
It's a pause in the phone call.
The curtains have closed.
The audience has finished clapping.
The play was a success.
The actors have take their bows and retreated
to their individual dressing rooms.
-----------
I look in the mirror and am in full costume.
I take off the painted makeup - a rub here and a rub there.
The curls are piled high on my head.
A brush of my hand and the whole hairdo is removed.
Now for the dress.
I stand up tall and it is tight fitting to the waist.
I have an attendant and she helps unbutton the back.
The dress falls in a heap at my feet.
Next is the corset. It is cinched so tight that I can hardly breathe.
My friend undoes the laces and tosses it to the side.
I stand in front of the mirror undies and chameo.
No makeup. No hair. And no corset.
I'm fatter than I thought.
Oh, well, no matter there is always tomorrow.
And what will tomorrow bring says the little voice inside me.
Well, good things, says "I Am."
There's the morning wake up call to stretch and get out of bed -
breathe
and move
and jump
and sing.
Come on says four year old Logan it's time to hit the beach
throw the ball, huddle all four and yell -
or --
Nine year old Kyle says, "let's watch the dogs run at the races."
And ten year old Gabby is all for going to the children's museum
and making those make believe pizzas.
My husband John with memory problems is ever the
watcher.
And who's the New Me - It's the I Am Me - that's Who.
