The Words Of Women.

About my youth.

When I was a child I would always be in my room, busy creating lives fraught with infidelity, betrayals, parties and shopping for my little plastic people. The door to my room would always be ajar just so; it wasn't enough to fully peer in, but enough to hear if I was in trouble. My mom always did this when she had her friends over. She'd leave me to create whole Universes unto themselves, but she always kept an ear towards my little body.

 

Her friends were like bound-in-flesh rainbows.

 

They came in all colors, but their personalities were the real hues. She had a friend who always wore the prettiest shade of blue eyeshadow, and her hair was always a free-flowing mess. She was fond of plastic baubles and long pearl necklaces, I remember. They would clickity-clack when she made hand gestures or walked. I always watched her with such wonder, such fascination. She was like a mini-goddess, laughing, singing, and talking with my mother, in our kitchen. My mother was the head goddess, of course.

 

As I would play, I would pause to listen to them.

 

At first, I could make out what they were saying easily. But at some point in there chatter, the language of these goddesses changed. It went from English, to some language I couldn't understand. It wasn't that they were speaking a foreign tongue...no. It was still English, but as their voices would fade into the background. It then became a language of dirty jokes, hand-to-mouth covered laughter, of sighs and hushed stories, of memories, of advice, and sips of coffee or tea.

 

The language of women.

 

I loved hearing it. It was like some magical music that only adult women could play. And I remember thinking, "One day I want to have that music in me." I wanted to grow up so badly, so I could be one of those goddesses. I wanted blue eyeshadow, coffee and that strange, unique language that they spoke to eachother. I would take my dolls and try my best to mimic it, but it never came out the same. I figured--with my little girl mind--that I had to practice first. And if I did it enough, one day I'd make the best goddess language that anyone had ever heard.

 

I didn't realize back then that it was just normal conversation between female friends. That you had to earn it with life lessons, with years and with a little pain too. Life was the music instructor, and you only really learnt your lesson after going through the things that these women did. It never lost its magic, to me, though. No matter what I thought as I grew up, that chatter endured as a fantastical, beautiful, odd badge worn by these ladies, these women of the world. The Goddesses who belonged to 'The Color Spectrum Order'...with their own bright, vivid shades of everything.

 

I heard it again tonight.

 

It was brief, and not so vague as it had been when I was little. I suppose this is because I am a woman now. But for a the shortest moment of time, I closed my eyes and I lingered on it. It was still beautiful, still magical...but it was something more, too. It was heartfelt, and familiar. It was sweet, loud and complicated. It was a struggle, it was sad, it was full of love, regret and full of deep-seated strength. I could relate to the sounds now, when I couldn't before. I was there with the words, I was present in the language. It was something I knew now.

 

In short, it was everything being a woman was like.

 

I paused for a long while afterwards to wonder if one day I would be the source of this 'magic' for a little girl of my own. If she'd hear what I did, and I want what I wanted. I wondered how many girls before me had felt the same thing. Had heard the same things I heard, or if our ancestors before us heard them too. I wondered how many girls became women, and went through this rite of passage.

And I wondered, for the longest time, how many women were speaking this very magical, pure, wonderful language right at that very moment, all over the world.

 

 

[It was then that I realized I'd never grow tired of hearing it.]

Reviews

[Tree]

Came across your work in a around about way, stopped, and read this. Not only was I moved by your wonderful birds-eye view of your childhood, but I learned a few not so small things about what shapes a woman. I have myself written from memories of my childhood and in the end, after re-reading what I wrote about always learned something new about myself. Our childhood consists of a Mountain of rich material,
to write about. Enjoyed this.

[Dev Pitta]

it's a sweet chirping of a bird that's nice to hear. i read your story which in sweeter tone to read full. wonderful presentation.

[Deco]

I think a learned a thing or two about the fairer sex here. And cherishing of small memories. Nicely written.

[Kainan Corrales]

Very nice prose and a very enjoyable read. The theme to it was great, something that even a male reader, such as myself, can relate to, growing up predominately around women. I definitely enjoyed it and hope to read more like this from you in the future.

[KayD]

How lovely! Your writing expresses truth, this IS how women are, with all the joys and pains of life shared. It made me remember similar occasions. Thank you.

[Divenita Er]

This is so beautiful.
Could relate to most of it.

Thums up

[Shauna Jacqueline Ander..]

Very well written, and a good, enjoyable read. Keep up the good work..
Looking forward to more.

[Luna]

Thank you.