The prompt this time was, “Being Chosen,” which brings up some powerful writing! What I wrote in response is below.
I was a tiny star, little star, a spark in your eye. A squiggly sperm swimming toward a receptive egg with 1000 other sperms. I got there first, and the ova closed the door. Did you choose me? Did you whistle afterward in the bathroom, post-coital urination, imagining me: curly-haired clown, half Irish cream, half Italian red wine? I was not what you expected: child singer of Broadway musicals, baker of cakes, Madonna maniac. But you chose me. Plucked me from the sky and plopped me down on Earth.
You slip off now to some other dimension, talking with relatives long gone, seeing people in the distance as moving beams of light. Zeroing in: blue eyes to blue eyes, reminding me: I was chosen.
I’ll tell you this: you made me believe in love. Dancing, dining, holding hands, flowers, love. Too tired but still can’t say no love. Cupcakes and gifts from faraway places and traveling home to you love. Pick you up at the airport love. Witnessing rights of passage love. Corny old songs with beautiful melodies and lush orchestration love. Holiday gifts and ice cream cones have a bite of my sandwich, have half, let me make you one of your own, love. Nicely dressed, sucker for a guy in a suit coat with a handkerchief in the breast pocket, sweet goodbye kisses love.
I am still floating through this world because of you. Talking to strangers, feeling compassion, speaking foreign languages, loving the human race with all its flaws and fear and violence. Still loving the human race because of you, love.
I’m holding on to who I am–chosen one–because of you, love. I’m holding on to who I am because of you and the mirror you always held up for me to see myself, love. Self love. Bruised hands still holding up the mirror, love. Still. Love. Still.