I take all of the should be’s and I wrap them in gold

Dress them with a bow on top, curl the ends with scissors

Sign my name on the tag in cursive with a heart

It was time to give them back to their rightful owners

For the should be’s that have been lingering in a murky place within my subconscious, they were never mine in the first place

I tape the boxes with packing tape and no return address

Wait by the window for the mail to take them away

You should be writing more

You should be making more money

You should have nicer things

Open the cabinets to get some water, you should have nicer glasses

Set the glass of water down on the table

Your table shouldn’t have paint stains on it

Grandma’s voice on the end of the phone, do you cook often in that nice kitchen of yours?

You should cook more, why don’t you cook more?

Are you dating?

You should find someone who is financially secure

A man who has a “nice” job, someone to provide you with a comfortable life

You should find that soon

Are you looking?

Are you on the apps?

The mail truck drives away and the shoulds get further and further

The voice of the shoulds quiets

Now there is space for the voice of my heart and my soul

That reminds me tables are made to be stained

With colorful paint from art nights with friends and red wine and coffee at sunrise

That a stained table means a life full and lived

And a life working with children that makes your heart dance with their unique beauty is much more rewarding than any number in a bank account

And a life with a man who sees your heart, who is artistic and kind, is more important than any false sense of security

That a life of living is more important than a life full of belongings

The shoulds are not me

I have grabbed them with my hands, ripped them from my body

What is left is a pulsing freedom

Feet on the earth

Bare skin on the sun

The dance of my soul and the song of my heart moving together in sacred rhythm

Your should be’s were never made to live inside of a woman this free.

~