N and I forgo yoga for mall walking. We eat dinner in the food court. I've been thinking about sushi and that’s not such a bad thing. I am in line and I have only $6 whereas I thought I had $15. This is only enough for 2 sushi rolls and I was thinking about being terrible and having 3. Panic rises in my throat. What am I going to do? Do I leave the line and go and get more money and come back to buy 3? This seems like extreme action just for a third sushi roll when I am not even that hungry. I promise myself that if I am hungry after I eat two I can buy a third. Calm settles over me again and I realise how odd this moment that I have just had with myself is.
I am ok.
I am 5, 6, 7, 8. My mother hoards plants too I guess. The little house is wrapped in dark greenery and the moon is full and high and I can see it, beyond the canopy. The driveway is made of little river stones that crunch when the car moves over them, my feet are soft and walking over is a clumsy dance. Warm domestic light spills out the kitchen window, geckos sing and this is my childhood and I am safe and unsafe and loved as best as is possible given circumstances. This is everything I know and I don’t know something different yet. Steak for dinner, the fatty rinds on a plate, for the cat. Her name is Sweetpea. I put some of the cooked fat out for her and I am pushing the rest in my mouth. I feel such a strong need. I am swallowing as quickly as I can and I am evening my breath so I can return in a timely and unsuspicious manner. I am a small child and I have already learnt that my hunger is shameful and punishable.
I grow to hate this place.
When I leave it is the end of summer and I am 20 kilos lighter by the start of spring.
Tonight I am a hundred kilometres and years away in my apartment. I can eat anything or nothing. I will never be hungry and I don’t need to be scared anymore.
You can ask me anything.