The girl that was me hovers near as I listen to Moonshadow.
“Remember when you wore mini-skirts?” she taunts.
She’s right. I’m not that girl now.
“If I ever lose my …” croons Moonshadow.
The girl that was says, “I won’t ever.”
But I have.
Losing, losing, lost.
Lost the days of quasi hippiness.
Lost the days of quasi happiness.
Lost the slender figure.
Lost the energy.
Lost the innocence.
Moonshadow has an answer, though.
“I won’t have to … anymore.”
And I don’t.
For every loss there has been a bonus, a blessing, a better perspective.
A better me.