I’m Problematic

I sat, legs crossed,

at my mother’s feet.

She proceeded to unite

every strand of

my hair

into a tight bun, tugging

as if I was a puppy

attempting to chase a squirrel.

Appearing presentable,

I walked into daycare.

Surveying the deep woods

that lived past

the fence enclosed playground,

I opened the gate

and traveled into its shade.

Here,

earthy hues

kissed my white blouse,

bark toughened my hands,

and vibrant needles hugged

my hair.

Rock in hand,

I etched into a towering pine tree,

me.

When the bell rang out,

instead of planting my feet,

I met my mom at the entrance.

I watched her eyes

travel across my body

and a scowl

overtake her face.