Once I Turned Eighteen, I Could Cut

It's Not Forever', She'd Said, But To My Mother, It Might As Well Have Been. She Had Make Her Choice, And This Was It, Where She Felt Safe, In A World She Could, For The Most Part, Control.

But Those Words Were Only The Middle Of The Story. There Was A Beginning Here, Too.

As Isabel Acted Out Her Date, Both Of Them Laughing, I Stayed In The Kitchen, Out Of Sight, And Pretended She Was Telling Me, Too. And That, For Once, I Was Part Of This Hidden Language Of Laughter And Silliness And Girls That Was, Somehow, Friendship.

When You Had To Do Something, You Had To Do It. And Eventually, If You Were Lucky, You Did It Well.

That Was The Thing: Once, The Difference Between Light And Dark Had Been Basic. One Was Good, One Bad. Suddenly, Though, Things Weren’t So Clear. The Dark Was Still A Mystery, Something Hidden, Something To Be Scared Of, But I’d Come To Fear The Light, Too. It Was Where Everything Was Revealed, Or Seemed To Be. Eyes Closed, I Saw Only The Blackness, Reminding Me Of This One Thing, The Most Deep Of My Secrets; Eyes Open, There Was Only The World That Didn’t Know It, Bright, Inescapable, And Somehow, Still There.