ZIPPER

There was this moment when I was young,
not super little,
but young,
early teens.
I went to sleep over at Mary's house.
I didn't really like her.
She had a big poofy blonde perm
and she was a cheerleader with the
cheerleader mom to go with it.
I was the weird church kid.

We waited until her parents went to bed,
and then we "snuck out".
We didn't know what to do.
We had never done it before,
just heard about it.
Our parents would've freaked out.
We were good, good girls,
But we wanted to "sneak out".
So we just went over to the
sign that annouced their private subdivision and stood there.
Later I would learn that "sneaking out" was
supposed to be for
drinking and smoking and cursing and...
everything that wasn't allowed at home.
But that night,
it was only about a strange freedom.
We got out, undetected.
We walked through that exclusive neighborhood,
and the passed the pool I wasn't allowed to swim in,
because I didn't live in the exclusive neighborhood.
And we ended up at the
greeting sign to their subdivision and we just stood there.
And it was great.
Me and Mary and her blonde poofy
perm and the dew on the grass.
I specifically remember the dew on the grass.
The grass was illuminated by the reflection
of their street lights on the moist, manicured blades.
I could feel the grass under my bare feet.
I felt mysterious and happy and free.
We stood there for a long time,
Silent.
She in her poofy slippers
and me barefoot and dreamng.
We waved at somebody in a truck.
Stood there a bit longer.
And then we went back.
That was it.

The next day I came home and my mom was there,
because she was always there, waiting for me.
I saw her and I loved her
and I thought I would explode if I didn't tell
her everything about the night before.
I wanted to share it with her so bad it hurt.
I wanted her to understand how special
and silly it was.
I wanted her to laugh.
She was asking me how my sleep over at Mary's was.
I heard myself telling her
only about
Mary's parents and
Mary's house and
Mary's bedspread and
Mary's poofy slippers.
She laughed.
And I kept waiting to see
what I would do next.

I paused.
I hugged her,
I turned,
and went upstairs to my room.
The one where all secrets would learn to live.
And I was sad.

I had created the tomb.
My Room.
The one where I would bury everything I couldn't tell my parents.
The one where we would become strangers to each other in certain ways.
The one where I would cry alone
and the joy of experience would stay imprisoned
in silence
for judgemnet may be outside that door.

The roses on the wallpaper and my pink beadspread
and my old bed set and my cat and my guinea pig
and me.
We lived there.
The rest of the world was full of judgement and misunderstanding.
I had learned that.
Better to keep stories there,
safe,
than endure the pain of disappointment.
Pets and beadspreads and wallpaper don't judge.

I have been and lived around the world now.
But...
That house is still there.
I'm sure the room still exists.
I hope the decor is different.
I wonder if there isn't someone there now
looking out my old window
all the time like I did.
Closing the bedroom door.
Looking at the stars.
Looking at he sky.
Learning to hide.
To cry
To die
To dream
in silence.

I wonder if they can feel me.
Feel the pain of hiding
but also,
maybe,
some nights
feel of dew beneath their feet.