Clean sheets.

My sheets are clean tonight.

In one year' span: I left Jason, I became pregnant, the baby died, I left California, I left my job. I moved to Colorado. But first I went to Mexico by myself for a month. I made friends, spoke Spanish, ran a business. Returned to Colorado on my 37th birthday.

I lived at home for a month. For one week in January I didn't leave my bed. I cried for that lost baby. I ate nothing. I just cried and cried and tried to release that child. 2015 came on with a wail, the deepest sounds evoked by blood and grey tissue where there was once a heartbeat. It wasn't yet a baby. It was a heartbeat in the Petri dish of my body.

In one week, I was feeling better. I drove to Boulder. Something happened that night, something as deep as a fairy tale, a story deep in the subconscious. I wore red. Freedom from blood, symbolic of new attractions. I knew he would teach me, again.

 The world steadied again and began showing me graces and muses.

I've been thinking of what happened so much in the last few weeks and this morning it came to me why.  This is the month I would have given birth. The last bit of my life has been under the knowledge that I would have been pregnant now. Time hurls forward, and if if if, I would be a mother now. Instead, I'll be the best woman I can be. The best friend, the best companion, the best daughter. I'll always do my best.

It's never that easy. The world still tilts. Tell me the last frontier of feminism. It's the freedom from being judged on how you seek knowledge and pleasure and experience life. Its also freedom to love without fear. It's freedom from ownership.

It's better than anyone telling me that they're sorry for my mistakes. It's better than banality. I hope it rips my ego to shreds.

Aloha.