Facts About Neuroplasticity

Saturday nights always dim slower than the week and fill

with the smell of berries and tea and incense pulled

through open windows. Saturday fans spin air everywhere

like balloons untied in the bedroom. My hair twirls to the side

of my eyes and I think I look pretty again. If I only stare

at my hair I can look pretty again. Before I got married,

when I was young. Before the kids came. Before the anti

depressants and the anxiety medications. Before the heart

failure. Before I went on a date when I was sixteen, I spent

an hour on my hair. I put on make-up. I used to go to the mall

to get the right earrings. But it became tiring to do the things

I did before I knew who I was. Saturdays can sigh at sunset

now. I will probably watch the moon rise out my window

from my side of the bed. I don’t want to admit how much time

I spend sitting here in this safe place. Sometimes when it’s sad out,

I can sleep myself to Sunday from this exact spot. I used to lie

in my closet when I got upset, wrap blankets around my shoulders, lock

myself in. But doors aren’t needed if the blankets are wrapped

tight enough. Bed frames serve as boundaries too.