Gluten Free

Somehow,

in all of this,

I must learn to forgive myself,

for not being,

the perfect daughter,

the mother

I could have been,

or the woman I should have been.

I am standing at this fork,

looking at the roads I could have gone down,

but for endless reasons chose not to.

Last night I dreamed

my pregnant friend was at a party standing over the grave of someone

freshly buried.

“I don’t want to go, “ I said.

“I can’t eat the cookies.”

“I’m gluten free.”

“They’ll have nothing there for me to eat. So there’s no point in my going.” I told my sister.

But that was a lie.

I didn’t want to go.

I was too scared.

Too scared.

Today,

my stomach hurts.

It burns and belches

and refuses to quiet down.

It feels as if it is eating me alive,

while just around the corner the maple leaves
have turned to red.