messy

I’ve always seen myself as a neat person. Aware and attentive. Controlled. Articulate. Prepared.
These qualities kept my life feeling smooth, easy, predictable.

I met you at the airport. Two peaches wash and packed in the kitchen towel. A car treat I had prepared with thoughtful containment. We ate and enjoyed these juicy fruits to their core. Two peach pits ready to be discarded— I offer my flat hand; a temporary receptacle. But as I hold this refuse, a thought crosses my mind— what satisfying squish might these pits provide if I could be so bold and explore the unhinged wild mess? My fingers curled around the stone seeds; juice drips down between my closed fist and palm. I giggle and look at you. Excitement and guilt— I’m getting away with something. Inside me something stirs— a deep rebellious longing to let go. The pulp is cold and mushy as I roll it around in my hands. I revel in the violation— my ordered world temporarily cast away.

I’m still driving— squirming, awakening— as I steal glances back to you. Will you meet me in the disapproval I expect? A frown and a headshake; a yearning to create space between you and this primal eruption.

No.
You’re watching me. Contented. Curious. Welcoming my unpredictable Wild to satisfy herself. I roll the seeds in my hand again uncovering more cold, mushy texture across more of my palm. The juice drips to my wrist. My tongue quarantines the flow with the satisfying mmmmmm. The moment expands as I recall my simple pleasure.

I soften remembering the Self I thought I should be— contained, predictable, neat. A cage I built to hide away the parts of me “too much” for the regulated world I’ve learned to survive inside.

I soften into the knowing that I am safe here— in your welcoming presence. Grief hits me in the center of my chest. God, I didn’t even realize I had drifted so far off in the current of compliance until I find myself awake on your shores, a refuge of permission to explore entirely.