Standing with my towel wrapped around my waist I faced the mirror and read the word I’d written in the fog the prior day.  Each day I wrote a new word, sometimes for myself and sometimes for the child entering behind me.  This word was for me.

My body was invisible as my fingers traced the letters on the glass.  My eyes were not as clean as the bath may have suggested they should have been.  Like a stone lodged in the ocean’s floor many of my thoughts were calcified as others were washed away to reveal specs of glitter beneath the surface.  To hold them requires strength and curiosity.

When I reached the letter ‘c’ a portion of my hair became visible and I smiled.  Sometimes my mind feels as if it’s growing wings and the streaks of white remind me of feathers.

At the final ‘e’ I paused at the sight of droplets upon my breasts, unfocused tears who in their formative years would swell in pain, then with milk, honey and love. Now filled with spirit and hope they are heavy.

The bathroom door is still closed and my back is turned away from the mirror as I remove my towel to place it on the drying rack. Before walking out I glance up and find the word has disappeared into the steam.

The cool air greets my skin as I step into the bedroom and I stand smiling at the imperfect perfection of blindness. Not the blindness of sight but the blindness of love. My heart was still holding a voice, hugs and kisses. I was standing there alone but still enjoying him. The permanent impermanence of him.

Let every thought be a chorus that reminds you of the effortlessness with which love has been written upon your heart and how seen and unseen it remains to be the discovery of impermanence that fuels the music in our souls