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The Color Purple

I walked into the room and glanced over – my heart skipped a beat, because there you were.  I blinked.  I ran along the fence and told you I’s married now.  I told you I was educated.  THEN all of a sudden you were sitting across from me – almost exactly as you used to many many moons ago.  

We all needed to get away for all of our own reasons, sometimes it’s the only way but I wish you hadn’t of left, I’m sure we would have accepted you as you were.  We didn’t really have identities and the need to go and figure that out was again, necessary – but once the light bulb came on, we came back. Do you think we want to be embroiled in the snarled, cracked tangled branches of the tree?  We are though, how’s your roots holding up?

My mind drifts back to days long ago, quiet conversations by the train tracks – “Whats’ going on here?  What will we call them? Why are they doing this? who are these kids?”

You and Me will never part.” 

So much is on the front folder of my mind – the stories roll off my tongue and the laughter is bold, full and real.  I wonder how much energy it takes to keep it all bottled up.  I know sometimes I have to press the release valve just so that I can continue to stand up.

Mistakes were made —

“You Told Harpo to Beat Me!”- she should have won an Oscar for that role.

Now I just stand on my porch – drinking lemonade, squinting out my glasses across the field, hoping that I will see a cab pull up and brightly colored clothes blowing in the wind .

I walked into the room and glanced over – my heart skipped a beat, because there you were….and then you spoke:  “Aunt Pam” and I knew we were still lands apart, but I felt that maybe just maybe – you had read my letters and sent me one back.



About Pamela

Lover of MJ, Mother of College Girl, Atlanta living participant of the bigger picture. Always ready for my closeup.

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