Kisses in the Rain

boots on wet pavement

cold hands in

warm pockets

body

leaning forward

lips parted to

greet yours-electric shock

What is in a name?

“Who am I?”

It was our first night out together in a long time. Married couples call these “date nights” and after having two children, they are a true luxury. We sat at a table with tenother people. I wore vintage crystal earrings and velvet peep-toe pumps. I felt quite regal. I was quiet; calm yet nervous because I felt so out of place.

My husband sat to my left, away from the table, swirling his wine. He tipped the glass toward me, “Mother, would you like some?” I smiled and politely declined.

 But within I felt a stirring. It was a mixture of hot anger and wet sadness.

“Mother.”

* * *

When I became a wife, I assumed wifely duties. When I became a mother, I took on the role of “mother.” I stayed home. I took to the kids to the library. I did all the cooking and cleaning. I paid all of the bills, drove all over town to do the grocery shopping and drop off the dry-cleaning. I did it all. And I did it with an (artificial) smile.

I didn’t exactly hate it; I am a Cancer—I like to take care of people. I got some kind of satisfaction from trying to be a perfect wife and mother. But it wasn’t me. There’s so much more to what I do and who I am.

I am Alisha.

Alisha.

“What's in a name?” Shakespeare said.  “That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet.”

 Well, Billy, you were wrong.

There is power in my name.

I need to be called “Alisha” because it encompasses all of me. It holds my essence, my uniqueness. It says that I am a mother and a wife. A writer and a dreamer. A soul-searcher and a believer.

It says that I am me.

I am Alisha.

Who are you?