I am a tower on which my child stands. I am her favorite mattress. I have a pair of bio-cranes that lift and lower the world’s most precious cargo. I’m an elevator with up buttons on my feet, apparently, for my child to step on. My legs make a slide and I’m one of those swing rides from the carnivals.
The reins of my body used to hang as I wait to see what people would like or expect me to do.
Now the reins rest in my hands. (No, not my toddler’s hands, though it might look that way!)
The idea that I might eat certain things, go certain places, not go certain places, do things, not do things, or have sex to keep someone else happy hits me now as betrayal to my body.
Sometimes I stand back and let the animal roam, in order to watch and learn its language.