"The ocean takes care of each wave till it gets to shore." ~ Rumi

The week of crazy early ovulation is the first week I realize she is spotting. In 16 days she turns 11. In 21 days I turn 39.

My red nail polish is chipping and I feel a tiredness that refuses to repair it.

In 21 days I will be 39.

I crave surprise and control. Riding with the windows down towards oceans promised to me. The cozy Mexican blankets wrapped around outside longings.

I grab the remover and scrub my nails with my exhaustion. Permission to be tired and still repair.

In 21 days I will be 39.

What I cannot say becoming a mantra. My PMS wild in this stretching body, a week of learning to love this body again.

Telling her about panty liners and how I was 14.

In 21 days I will be 39.

We will scavenge around the city. I will feel such joy. Bubbles will flow.

I choose a light pink. Pale. Quiet. Knowing. Gently my sleepy hands become tidy. Nails no longer chipped. Smell of remover in my nose. I rest my hands on my belly to dry.

In 21 days I will be 39.