A life in two paragraphs

For Writing Workshop ‘Can you see me’ from Josie at Sleep is for the weak:

I was the one who came second. I was the one who screamed all night and was put on the doorstep; who – discovered drenched by the paddling pool – claimed my absent brother pushed me; who didn’t spill the yoghurt on the fireplace but still got a smack for it, who didn’t nick the Spangle from mum’s bedside table; who did burn plastic bags nailed to a shelf in the garage, who did pee in the bedroom sink. I was the one who “wasn’t a proper girl” but who knitted, crochet’ed, embroidered, sewed and macrame’ed my way through primary school; whose clever friend could tie her own tie but couldn’t skip properly; who stole peas through the neighbours fence; who danced oblivious to everything but Mozart yet lasted only ballet lesson.  I was the one who tried on friends and found them lacking. I was the one who longed to belong but was always too shy, too brash, too frumpy, too ugly, too keen. I was the one with the metal mickey.  I was the one they tried to bully (but a temper makes a fine defence). I was the one who skiied off alone into the dank mist, who ran and ran to get away from them, who swam so hard they’d be left in my wake.  I was the one who played too rough, laughed too loud, drank too much, smoked too many, loved too easily, stayed too late. I was the one who lost my way, my purpose, my goals, myself.
I am the one who picked you, with your crazy hair and chequered past.  We were the ones who partied hard, who travelled wide, who settled down.  I am the one whom you gave a son whose every move I watch with swelling pride.  We are the ones who groped our way blindly.  I am the one that held you close when your father died, that clutched your hand on a hospital bed, that scolded you for worrying while cold fear balled in my stomach; yet I am the one who pushes you away from my troubles. I am the one who looks through your eyes to see me for the fraud I am; who reads your mind and finds I am wanting. I am the one whom you gave a daughter. I am the one who strokes her brow, her palm, her fingers and who cries with joy. I am the carer, the cook, the teacher, the artist, the swimming instructor, the cleaner, the decorator, the writer, the gardener, the dreamer, the traveller, the singer, the musician, the disciplinarian, the poet, the sportsman and the raging harpie.  I am your wife. I am your mother. I am your pal. I am exhausted but I love you all.  And I am excited about tomorrow.