Lingering ghosts

She sat on the front porch sipping her iced tea, her hair wet with sweat and her dress clinging to her voluptuous body like a second skin. In the background, the mesmerizing tones of a sensual jazz singer captured her attention and whisked her into a beautiful dance. She felt herself smile as she closed her eyes and melted into the delicious sounds beckoning her into a smoky room filled with whiskey and mysterious people. For a moment she forgot that her life was elsewhere. She forgot that she ached for the busy streets where she could navigate with anonymity and live courageously without eyes watching her around every corner. The voice projecting from the radio offered refuge to her current situation. She never thought her life would bring her back to this place, to this moment, where all the growth that she experienced was stripped from her bones and she was once again a naked child. She tried everything to escape, did everything right. For a tranquil period of time, she felt comfort knowing that she finally created her own utopia where the ghosts of the past could not find her and drag her back to a place that made her feel small and insignificant. Then, one day, as she was sipping her morning latte, the phone rang and she knew she was being summoned back to the past. She stared solemnly at the caller id, losing herself for what seemed an eternity, before she finally picked up the phone and invited back all of the complexities that plagued her as a little girl. She knew she had no choice. Her sense of duty would not allow her to ignore the phone call.

Now, as she sits on the porch, listening to the familiar song, she is grateful for the moments of calm before she has to confront the lingering ghosts. She is grateful for this one magic moment.