The One Who Cracked My Code

I’m currently looking forward to entering the stage of the enchantress. No, really it’s a stage. And it doesn’t mean that I will be sociable. Quite the opposite, it means that I will be a witch, in my shell, collecting my thoughts and HIDING… so as not to curse or bless you. Cackle.

And then there’s the crone. When for a week I’m eighty years old and have wisdom to spare and feel a bit less inhibited…because there is no time like the present, and then you die.

The seven days of virgin are among my favorite (not so for the O’lover). This is when my finger burns from the weight of my wedding ring. When I constantly forget that I share O’lover’s name. Mind you, I don’t like hurting O’s feelings when I take off without disclosing my destination but a virgin has untamable wonder and an unbroken stride (and little interest in men).

But really my absolute favorite stage is that of the mother. It’s when I’m clinging, and caring, when I nest and massage, and coo and pet. But 1% of the time it’s also when I over react and imagine offences. When the Mother Bear gets ticked off…heaven help you, my heart rate, and Ollie who has to mediate.

Before O’lover cracked my code my mysterious alternations between piety and caprice were a hairy rollercoaster ride I didn’t know I was on. And then the LIGHT. And we’re having fun.

Thanks Oliver.