Slowly And Then All At Once
It's not like I have changed much physically.
16 going on 17.
Still a midget among giants,
and a giant among midgets.
Being just over five feet
seems like a bother.
Tall enough to see yourself in mirrors,
but not tall enough to reach high shelves
in the kitchen or the library.
When I look in the mirror,
I still see
my dark brown beach waves
that appear to be a light chestnut color
when placed near the light.
I still see the amber eyes
the same ones when I smile at my mom,
or bother my sister
by placing my face too close to hers
when she is wrapped up
on her laptop without a care in the world.
She usually swats at me,
and she tells me to go away
as I were some fly
who placed her shiny wings
like pieces of broken glass
too close to her.
Her reasoning is
how dare I interrupt her training
to becoming a pro.
My little sister, with her goofy alarmingly bright yellow sunglasses
and slick straight gossamer black hair, a gaming pro.
As of late
she would explain what she was doing,
and invite me to join her
on the comfy navy blue bedsheets
in my parents’ bedroom.
As we browse on the Internet,
she berates me for preferring
music videos over gaming tutorials.
My love for music is constant
although my personal tastes sway
like the tides of the cerulean blue ocean.
I will listen to anything
that makes me feel
a wave of adrenaline rush
coursing through my veins.
Anything that makes me want to
twirl around
in my oversized light blue t-shirt
and red plaid pajama bottoms
flexed with charcoal black
and faint hints of gold
as my dark brown waves
sway and bounce side to side with the beat.
The fact that I am more open about
dancing
has been a refreshing change.
Before,
having to memorize dance moves
and keep up with other people
unnerved me.
Dancing always seemed like a hurdle,
but this year it seems less of a burden.
It was okay if I tripped,
or that I forgot that one move.
I became more open minded of making mistakes as I dissected and digested
dance moves from different music videos
from the intricate and group-orientated
dance moves of Bollywood and Korea
to freestyle dancing.
Sometimes it is nice to know
how to make your way across a dance floor
without tripping over your own feet,
or giving deep purple blisters
to anyone within walking distance.
I admire people who can dance in heels
even with the damage
done to them
by their constricting closed toe high heels.
The clattering of heels
on a dance floor
is as calming to me as
the sound of chimes colliding
in the wind.
Dancing shamelessly,
whether you are good or not,
is a gift and a curse.
I haven't gone that far in my growth,
but how does one define growth?
Are there little markers
in solid primary colors
that one earns for every accomplishment
or cumbersome trial that is overcome?
Is there a sense of satisfaction
washing over you like a tidal wave
after a long period of time has passed?
It's an ongoing thing,
something that takes weeks,
months, and years.
You think you are strong
as nails, the feeling of being done
should hit you anytime.
Then you realize,
perhaps under a tree
near but not quite full blossom
as you sweep back and forth on the swings
in the gentle spring air,
that you never stop growing.
Do you get a sticker for every new change
that occurs
such as learning how to navigate the subway
due to having to go to writing workshops
in Manhattan
or developing relationships
with writers
who appreciate
the elegance of a concise but elegant
one-liner?
Is change just another fact of life?
Is it something that takes a while
to digest and accept slowly
like a bite of a chocolate
that your friend insisted was the best,
but you did not understand
until you actually experienced it?
I feel like I am going by life slowly and then all at once.
Frankly I like the way I live my life. It’s mine after all.