I’m navigating waters I thought I’d tempered a long time ago. It comes to me in waves … or like the winds of March, going out like a lion when I thought all that early snow would mean it’d be a lamb. It’s not.
I trusted a fairy tale – an old saying into which my grandmother put a little stock. She probably never got the chance to tell me how many times she could remember it being wrong. Nor would I have committed it to memory if she had.
That’s what keeps coming to me – my credulity – in new shades of daylight … or moonlight. Starlight? Sometimes, yes, I admit to myself in a low voice. It gets darker than I could ever have imagined…
Like everything, it keeps expanding – my understanding of the things I thought I once knew. Lessons I thought I knew, I’m having to relearn or adapt to differently. Because what did it before, it don’t anymore.
I smirk.
My beloved English teacher would quote Langston Hughes and remind me that Appalachian dialect is just as important as anything else in literature. More important than the structure.
That’s why I let it be… my flaw. It’s just a little of my environment, shading me in a less than perfect light.
I let it be.