truth or dare

always as a kid i chose truth.

it was easier for me to spill it all confessional style than to eat something blindfolded or do something gross in front of an audience. truth came easy, it dribbled from the corners of my mouth while i slept. spilling forth from me in lucid dreams spoken outloud for entire slumber parties to hear.

truth. truth. always truth.

there is no fear in being human. is there? dare i share? shall i whisper these words? shall i whisper them because they conjure up something deep inside of you? bitterness perhaps? i don’t know. maybe i don’t know truth anymore. it divides itself into many minds, into thousands of eyes all witnessing the same phenomenon, each set walking away with something entirely different from the next. 

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today is the day of breathe, of bodies stooping over to pick up crumbs. remnants of things i should not have eaten but did anyway. their remains lie half chewed on the floorboard of my car. food i ate greedily hastily between red lights and songs and passing snacks back to the carseat behind me. today is the cleaning out, the settling down, the regrouping.

today today, this is my life.

today i played cheerleader to a majorly grumpy three year old. today i played defense to a near 50lb baby boy linebacker headbutting pushing testing kicking. today i took it and took it and took it and only got knocked over a couple of times. today i did not pass go, i drove straight to our happy place for our own sanity. today i was not sad, although sadness is real. and today i was not happy, although happiness is desired. today i just was one heart beating.

today i just was.

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today i sat down on the park bench and watched you pick up my camera.

my nikon.

my “all i own in the whole world, my only possession that is worth any sort of money that i can no longer afford, my heart and soul and eye inside a black box of mirror and glass, my most precious accessory beside you my love… you, my three year old clumsy boy who can throw like a champ but falls hard like chris farley smashing coffee tables on late night tv who is now holding my camera over a concrete parkbench with a four foot drop off to an ugly death” today i sat on the parkbench and heard you mumble to yourself about looking through the viewfinder with one eye looking at me with the other. today i looked back at you breathed and gave you all my trust and faith in your strong secure preschooler hands.today i believed you would not fumble.

and you pressed the shutter and said “i see you momma”

and i learned later that you really did.

photo by river

(edited by me because what my mom says is true, i can’t leave anything well enough alone)