by Rose S. Williams
Like vaudevillians balancing spinning plates on poles,
we juggle checkbooks and date books,
play groups and work groups,
mealtimes and free time,
at a frenzied pace and in a harried style.
We strive to be our best in all our interactions
with those we most cherish:
Husbands, lovers, children, parents and friends,
while often in the process
we shortchange the person closest to us...
Do we bleed each month
to atone for Eve’s trangressions?
Are we genetically ingrained
to give our all to others,
and leave ourselves till last?
Can we accept the reality
that there is no perfect woman?
Be she wife, mother, daughter or friend,
she does not exist in perfection,
except in those dated fables of long ago.
June Cleaver and Harriet Nelson
were the goddesses of twentieth century mythology.
We would do well to remember...
they are not real,
only elusive myths
concocted in Hollywood
by a roomful of cigar-smoking men.
Rose S. Williams is a southern woman with a strong sense of place who loves to write. The roles that define (yet do not limit) her are wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and writer. Writing help Rose explain her world and share it with others. She lives in Gainesville, Florida with her husband and daughter, but south Georgia will always be her home. You can read more of Rose's work at her Gather column.
April 1, 2008