Loving Myself at 45

Poetry for Sunday

Photo by Elijah Hail on Unsplash

Hell yes, I will come on your yoga and meditation retreat. 
I will meet you where I meet myself. 
I will sing loudly on the way up the mountain. 
Yes I am of Generation X. 
I still know all of Dark Side of the Moon by heart.

I am still growing up. It’s fun, remember? 
It’s also great to go nowhere be seen by no one answer to no one. 
I will listen to NPR and my books on tape, 
and I will stop to think and forget to get going again. 
Yes, turning into my mother (still) wild and earthy hippie she is.

I will laugh about the permanent bruise on my hip 
because where is my body in space? 
Where are we anyway?

I will dance with my child and sip coffee and fill in the boxes. crossword and Sudoku. bliss. leisure.

I cannot sit still just like my 5th graders. I need to hold a fidget spinner. My brain at times won’t stop. I will pull at the weeds and not plant anything this year. The garden will volunteer tomatoes. And maybe a pumpkin.

There is a cardinal. Home for a while. 
I will walk and walk even though my arch hurts and my heel hurts and I stretch beyond what I thought possible.
That adjustment in me has yet to come.

I am bold. I speak my mind. I am hard on myself. And then I am not. I get lazy then busy then I just cannot deal with the world.

I love the routine but I want a shake up. 
I am still that girl on the train. 
Running that race, swimming the lake, learning guitar. 
Singing and singing with all my heart.

I am still losing my tent at a music festival. 
I am still playing house too soon.
I am dancing in a light up hula hoop in my wedding dress. 
I am still lost and totally and completely one hundred percent myself.

And love. I love. I love you so much.


© Samantha Lazar 2019

Thank you for reading. My name is Samantha. I teach 5th graders everything from Language Arts to How to Be a Good Human. I also teach creative writing classes, workshops, and lessons. I still want to be a writer when I grow up.

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