Family
Family
by Emma Bishop
18-21
With sweaty palms,
I stand in a room with a woman,
I think I know her,
I think we are the same,
I feel my blood pumping,
My nerves heightened.
She is beautiful,
With her short hair,
Suit and button up shirt.
I speak quietly,
In awe.
I am enamored immediately.
Here she is, a writer, a creator
In middle age,
With a gold band on her ring finger
And I think
That could be me one day.
I hold onto her name until I get home,
I find a photo of her and her wife,
A picture of her kid
And all of her history.
And I cry.