My name is Uncertainty. (thoughts and a poem reprint)

At sixteen I went through the “ Who am I?” phase, smoking, drinking, sleeping around, trying to identify the life I would lead. When I met you I became the complement to you, enjoying those things that you enjoy, racing, shooting pool, drinking…

When our children came, I became the image of mom as close as I could come to perfect, a composite of yours and not mine and borrowed from the TV ideal; PTA, parks and play dates, coffee and shopping, making ends meet.

Today as the cloud of second hand smoke wafts by and I consider bumming one from the young man in shades, as he takes lengthy draws from the end, I realize I’m again in the “who am I?” phase. Twenty years from the last smoke of my own, waiting for class to start. The first time around I had an idea where my path would lead me. Now – I just don’t know.

At seventeen
No thought was clean,
So close to purity of thought.

At eighteen
stuck in between,
never understood what she had wrought.

At twenty-one
So much fun
Oh, he really is the one!

At twenty-three,
Does he love me?

At twenty five,
Again -
Does he love me?

At twenty-seven,
Does it matter?

At thirty-four,
Not any more.

At nearly forty,
What will I do?
So filled with doubt.
Uncertain – Fool!