Jeannie, my mother named me that after I Dream of Jeannie, if only my life were that easy. The wiggle of a nose, and everything sets right. Life had never been that way, and I never expected it to be.
Sam told me loved me on my sixteenth birthday. He handed me the purple flower many would call a weed, and tucked it behind an ear. As he swept my hair back, he kissed me on the cheek and said I would always be his girl.
Everything made sense then, the way the world worked, the boy gets the girl--and I was more than willing to be his girl. But times changed, moments passed by, choices were executed, mistakes were made.
Fifteen years have passed, and my husband isn’t Sam. I married up as they say. Rich lives in a suit, and even stalks around the condo in one. Luxurious surroundings, laid out by a professional decorator. I feel a stranger in my home, the dark contrasts of textures are not my calling. They don’t wrap around me, and embrace me in warmth.
As I lift myself up from the marble floor, and run the back of a hand across the fresh cut on my lip, I dream of the day so many years ago when the man who truly was my soul mate handed me a flower and promised to love me forever. The man who shadows me now will not intimidate me forever. I know I am worth so much more than this. For once I had true love, I will find it again.
What does this picture say to you? I'd love to read your interpretation.