My Name is Power

How wonderful it is to hear my name pass from the lips of an authority figure. Someone taller in stature than me, someone to whom I should obey.

It’s almost delicious, as I see the lips pucker around the consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel-vowel, fricatives and affricatives purring down the throat. The syllables waft around me like a halo, and for that moment, I am recognized.

To recognize someone is to give them a small jolt of power and holiness.

It’s in the difference between calling, “yes?” and calling, “yes, Hunter?” to my English students.

It’s in the difference between greeting, “hello there!” and, “hello, Janet!” to the friends of my mother whom I meet in the grocery store.

It’s the difference between mouthing, “get it!” and, “get it, Kenz!” when Kenzie and I are playing fetch.

Her ears jettison towards the clouds, and she tilts her head. In that head tilt, for the brief moment before she launches herself towards the rubber ball, I see supreme gratitude.

That’s all I have for you today.

Peace and Blessings,
Josie

One thought on “My Name is Power

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About Josie

I run slowly through forests, eat spoonfuls of Jif's Natural creamy peanut butter, and perpetually wear a fuzzy Patagonia sweater I found for $1.50 at a charity shop in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I deal in trees, breeze, and threes. I'm not interested in being normal. I'm not looking to pass GO. I'm not looking for anything other than breathable freedom.