Twenty-One
This is what she said:
Soon it will be time to leave. I am not afraid. My human costume will fall away and I will reveal my true self to eternity. Already I feel I am adrift. Like a piece of wood picked up from the beach where it has fallen as a branch from a tree, I am taken from my place of firmness, my place of rootedness to the earth, and carried wherever the tides, the ebb and flow, the deep sea currents, decide. I am one of the millions of pieces of flotsam and jetsam that are pushed along in the boiling, roiling ocean until, for whatever reason—or no reason at all—I am deposited on another beach, far, far, far, from my original place of growth. But now I am transformed, beautiful in my detachment, all my roughness smoothed away by the churning saltiness of my journey. I
