20th Reunion Committee Meeting:

Now: I look younger than my age, Maureen looks older, and Laurie looks exactly like she should at three years shy of forty.

Then: I was obese, weepy and slovenly. Maureen was a brassy, beautiful bitch. Laurie? Laurie was popular for all the right reasons.

Now: My body is smaller, my skin is tougher; I dress to be seen. Maureen's perfect smile is kinder, and the crow's feet and laugh lines are far more beautiful than cheerleader perfection. Laurie is Laurie, and while Maureen and I blink at each other in confusion for twenty minutes, Laurie knows us at once.

Oh, man. This is such a good topic; the drabbles have been stellar.

I was just about to say, Deb -- really wonderful topic.

Drabble:

I was always the good girl. Good student, good daughter. Responsible. Capable. Reliable. Blond, too, with big green eyes. That didn't hurt. I played the angel for everyone who mattered.

Inside my head, I was a different girl. Screaming, raw, defiant, made of hot lush flowers and the darkest vines, a tangle of need and resentment that took root early. There's a T-shirt now that says "I wear black on the inside." That was me, but they wouldn't have recognized it for all the money in the world.

Untitled

If you could see me now, this far away
What would you do, my love? What would you say?
The fearless child who took the whole world on
On your behalf - would you decide, she's gone?

Those deep green eyes your touch, your kiss, once fired
Would you look down at them, and think, so tired
That jaw, those lips, legs wrapped around you tight
Has she gone gently into that good night?

If you had lived, if I'd survived the fall
I'd like to think you'd know me, after all.

Oh, that's lovely, Deb.

You'd Hardly Recognize Me

The first thing to go is breath, then love, then the memory of love. The fall, the snap, then darkness and the slow erosion of the flesh. I sense you, vaguely, through the decaying wood, the dirt, the rocks, as you kneel over me on moonless nights. The tiny flicker of what I once was waits for you. Exposure of sin is worse than death, they say, but the dead know that nothing is worse than death. If one night ghostly hands twist that long black veil around your neck and pull until the breath goes, will you recognize me?

Wow, awesome drabbles all, but Ginger's gave me some of the creepiest goosebumps. Brrrr.

Man, Ginger, that's dark.

Ginger, that's fantastic! I love how dark it is.