When I am little
I long to be old

I adore my grandmother
she is wise

when I come to her 
at four months

I am angry 
and turn my head from the spoon

my mother tells the story
I do not remember

my grandmother studies me
and says, "Yes,

you may feed yourself."
My mother laughs and tells

"You lived on cheerios
and chunks of banana

and would not let anyone
put anything in your mouth."

There might be a darkness there
that I don't want to think about.

And the finger thumb skill
does not appear

until nine months.
Before that it is a sweep of the hand

to pick things up.
Difficult with cheerios.

I held the bottle too. 
I am returned to my parents

at nine months
the grandmother gone

1000 miles away.
I do not like my mother

or my father
nor do I trust them

at first. But one must live
and I do

At two I play falldown
tackling my father

like the people on the television
and he falls down

and I laugh
It is only later that I realize

that only men play falldown.
I think to myself

nothing will stop me
if I want to do something

being a girl
will not stop me

if I want to play falldown
or anything anything else.

My grandmother gives me 
the gift of anger

the gift of independence
permission to refuse 

the spoon. Permission
to feed myself

and feel my feelings.
And I never ever stop.

I learn to hide some feelings
from my parents

because they cannot allow them.
Sorrow, fear and humiliation

three monsters that I must hide
or refuse to feel.

On a boat my father says
to my young daughter

"Don't be scared
or go below."

I say, "No.
What are you scared of?"

"I am scared that we are stuck
aground

we can't get to shore."
I say, "Look.

We are very close to shore. 
I can swim there.

We could wait for the tide
to come back in 

and float us free.
But we have two strong mothers

who are trying to winch
us off to float free."

My daughter is satisfied.
Soon another sailor sends a rowboat

taking the four children 
to play on shore

while my friend and I 
continue to use all our muscle

to winch the boat off 
the stubborn earth.

I think it is the tide
coming in 

that finally frees us
and we are too tired to sail

by then 
and return to the slip.

We have entertained 
every live aboard

and they tease us
mercilessly

and we do not care.
But my father's words

"Don't be scared
or go below."

resonate. I chose
to go below 

as a child
to hold my feelings sacred

and refuse to entirely 
stuff them.

As an adult
a friend says

"You feel things too strongly."
I clam up

immediately.
I feel things too strongly

for HER
but not for me.

My feelings are 
MINE and sacred.

My feelings are
prayers to the Beloved.

Your feelings are 
prayers to the Beloved.

My best work 
as a physician

is when I open the door
to someone's feelings

and they let them out
terrifying 

to them.
But not to me.

And when they are done
I say

"It seems to me
your feelings

are perfectly reasonable.
I would feel that way too."

Sometimes I ask
would they still want

the antidepressant?
A counselor?

A follow up visit?
They look surprised.

A weight lifted
for now.

"No.
I will see how I am doing.

I will call if I need 
to come in."

"That's fine."
I say.

Somehow I don't
think the AI

can really do this
as I do.

I may be wrong.

When I am very small
I want to be old

and wise 
as my grandmother

who saves my heart
and lets me feel.

Now I am middle aged.
I don't want to be old

and wise
for a while yet

but it isn't my choice now,
is it?

Bring it on
Beloved.

Bring it on.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: partner.

I think the Beloved is my partner in joy, in sorrow, in wicked humor. Thank you, Beloved.