Wrapped in scorched hope, the gifts are entrusted upon a new-born human girl. Everything good and bad about the storekeeper fit nicely in the marred hands of the merchant handing over the box of goodies of her new life. How much of it is accepted into her DNA? How much of who she is, truly is her own authentic identity?
She thanks him for the good. At a very young age, being able to draw and write beyond her years was astonishing to say the least. Her strength in character and loyalty are unwavering. The fact that she can cook better than most cookbook queens is also a huge plus.
She curses him for the bad. Inside the same perfectly wrapped box of strength and loyalty, sits the ugly offering of un-forgiveness and stubborn-ness. Also bestowed upon her is his “premium souvenir” that sits on her nightstand and greets her at 3am most nights with panic attacks and nightmares. And the last offertory is the sweet “rite of passage” NOT to become an alcoholic. A trait passed down through the last 3 generations, or as far as we can remember.
So, through the production line of quality controlled products that come out of the experiences in this life, she’s gotten really good at dodging bullets and avoiding obliteration of the physical self. Aware of her flaws, her mind fights against them daily. Her fighting causes her to have more of his “triple threat cocktail” of panic, alcoholism and un-forgiveness. Not Today!
Today, she owns this shit. Opens the box. Fixates on the gifts. Peers through it with that same “scorched hope” given to her in the beginning. This time with gentler hands. She Owns It.