Do you still love me?

Dreaming vividly…..a reoccurring dream with my daughter in it. The circumstances change, the subject or the main plot not. I dream of neglecting her, in some cases I am mean and vile. I wake up and turn on the shower. I let hundreds of single droplets fall on back and chest, carefully avoiding my hair. As I turn back and fourth in a half circular motion, I let the dream take hold of my thoughts. I ponder on the meaning. I ponder on last night. Victoria performing on stage in the school play. I am very proud of her. She’s entering a new stage in life. They all are, from little girls to little ladies.
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It’s 10 pm. I’m tired, yet we argue. I walk upstairs. I need air but mostly I need solitude. I remove residues of make-up with a cotton pad. Long, hard streaks, making lanes in my skin. It’s symbolic. Not only the unmasking, revealing a bitter sweet truth. But it’s also full of anger, wrath, revenge. It’s in times like these I turn to my heroines; historical, biblical, literary. “Revenge is a dish best served cold” one of them exclaimed in cold reflection to her imminent demise.

But as I start drifting to sleep, and the object of anguish reveals himself in the door opening, all such sentiments evaporates. “Do you still love me?” I ask. The answer gives me enough courage to close my eyes.