Under the Harsh Light
I remember we all wore long sleeves and pants in our late teens. I squirmed in line for a physical to qualify for the military.
I remember those reeducation years, a working group leader for our village said, You have large but empty eyes.
Coming back from the countryside to be a high school teacher, I said, My nose is not pretty, when the school leader said, You have such beautiful eyes.
I remember a new awareness, when I was teaching physics, one boy said, You should wear a bra.
In college, a classmate said, Your waist looks like a big water bucket. Water bucket, I dropped one in the well at the farm.
I remember when dozens of us were in the birthing waiting room, one girl was so scared & cried, not knowing where her baby would come out.
How can you give birth to such a beautiful daughter when you are so dull? A usually charming friend said.
A tall friend surprised me when I showed my daughter’s portrait. She is not tall enough, he said.
Young people told me, You are too skinny. Leggings would fit you better than joggers.
I remember my pretty friend said, You are not pretty otherwise you would have better luck.
Each time looking at my past in photos, I remember and realize the girl I was and I’m now, standing like an expanding tree, with thundering radiance.