Monday, July 17, 2017


She did the needle test on me and I felt my palms starting to sweat. What would it say? The needle steadied over my left wrist. I felt it ever so slightly. I waited. It swung left to right and then in a circle. She puts the needle and thread back onto the table. 'A boy first, then a girl. Only two.' She says. Subconsciously, I rub my wrist. She tells me the test is true. I do the test to my best friend three times. Each time produces the same results. She's slightly disappointed but I don't want her to be. I do the test to myself. It stays true. A boy, a girl, only two. I think about my future children often. I think of the three secret things I want them to know as an absolute truth, three things I hope they never forget. I want to encourage an insatiable excitement for life within them. I want them to be brave and bold enough to be who they want to be. If the world doesn't understand their magic, home always will. I often think of these things as my window is rolled down and the wind sweeps through my fingers. Cars weave in and out of the paint lines. The music is on so loud it almost drowns out my thoughts.