I am an Imposters

"It is because we are all impostors, that we endure each other." Emile M. Cioran


My son creates visions of his Halloween costume over and over again. He starts with, "It will be a box with big holes to get my legs in and out, a mask with slats for eyes, black boots, legs, buttons on my fingers for the lasers. . . " With every new version, he speaks with absolute certainty about the blinking lights and ball shooters, not wondering about design challenges or if it is possible to build. He knows how it is going to be and does not notice the smirks or winks exchanged by his adult audiences. He has also decided that "daddy and mommy" will be the bad guys he will fight and kill. I correct him to say, the bad guys he will capture, take to the police and ultimately, the judge." 


My halloween costumes were more simple. A mini skirt and big pony tail with the explanation that I am a "valley girl." In college I went tricker-treating with no costume and a just begged neighbors for candy. Now I can buy my own junk to be delivered in a brown box with no label exposing my lack of self control.


I am the cardboard package, not quite a servant willing to give my free moment to another, not quite a writer who will abandon a phone call, not quite a wife who will take care of the dry cleaning. I am greedy for free time. Dripping sweat that people might realize my efforts to be helpful make me resent myself. That sometimes I avoid people's eyes, so I am not forced to tell them "yes" and myself "no."