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by Edna Wallace, LMFT

I can’t speak.
I can eat.
I do eat….
Plenty.
Too much.
The challah.
The rice.
(all the carbs).
The guests
are a sweet couple.
There we are.
My brother,
Rachel, his wife,
Sarah and Peter,
the couple,
and me.
Lots of openings
in the conversation.
Definitely a back-and-forth.
But I keep eating.
Smiling.
Not talking.
I can’t blame my brother
(as I usually do).
Nor his friends
(that’s usual too).
But I can’t
with this couple.
They’re nice,
interested in me.
No, it’s me.
I’m muted.
Why can’t I talk
and laugh
and be nice?
I usually am.
There’s Edna
at Toastmasters,
greeting everyone,
teasing my husband.
There’s Edna
at games nights
and in groups,
connecting.
It’s easy….
It’s fun.
But not tonight.
I don’t know.
This feels strange
(and stupid)
(and familiar).
I want to speak.
But it’s such an effort.
How has the past
collapsed into
this moment?
I think about this
(vaguely).
And yet…
I am silent.