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.