The Blue Towel
Brie Hyslop

As cliché as this may sound: what uninhibited freedom I had at such an age - the rush of excitement, the fearlessness, and sincerity in every smile.

My bare butt against the uncomfortable plastic seat of the swing-creaking and whining with every rhythmic sway of my body; propelling my weight forward, then leaning back, I flew. I gave myself over to restlessness. Without doubts, without self conscious thought, without fear or hesitation, I acted solely on spontaneous feeling.

I was full flesh and bone instinct. I gave myself over to movement-through air into humid wind, I flew. As sweat beaded into salty pearls in the crevices of my bending knees and arching back, into the blue cloudless sky I flew, higher and higher until the sound of my uncontrollable excitement and laughter drowned the sound of waves made from wind in my ears. I lost my stomach to an explosion of feeling I no longer could contain. As I let myself fall back into air, into weightlessness, my small, tanned hands clung to the rusting metal bar. My sun bleached hair curled around daisies sprung from soil and sand I unknowingly grew from.

With the sky in my eyes, soil between my toes and flowers in my curls, I ran with this explosion of energy, exposing the innocence of my unblemished skin. Naked, I ran out through the back door still dripping fresh from bath with a safety-pinned towel around my small throat, and into the entire universe of Delmonte Drive.

I flew because the cotton blue cape gave me the power to fly-over piles of oak leaves, maneuvering in between sword-like blades of lemon-lime grass into the freshly watered tomato garden, smelling of mint and heat. I flew because I was naked. Innocently exposed and blossoming, I was a bird, a bee; I was super-woman with a blue, cotton, bath cape.

Now I sit listening to the restlessness in the wind, just listening, my cape folded under the bathroom sink, my clothes too close to my skin. My mother finally made me put on a shirt when my immature chest became tender; my nipples became sharp, pointy triangles. I discarded the safety pin and was taught how to buckle the snaps of a bra. My arms, slipping through those two holes, made me think twice before the spontaneous overflow of excitement burst into stars of splintered rain. I was a child no longer, I had become a girl. Inhibition abruptly became hesitation. I silenced myself.

Eventually, I became uncomfortably familiar hiding beneath the clothes that chafed my thighs and calloused my skin. When I finally peeled off the layers of clothing I no longer felt comfortable with my own self, my own body, and my own bare butt against the plastic swing. I was a stranger. I felt like a clown in clothes, yet shy and awkward naked.

I lost all the unfolding freedom I once surrendered myself over to. I folded the blue cape and fell from the cloudless sky.

Brie Hyslop is a student at Fairhaven College. She believes that in order to write effectively, she must remain present in her experience and honest with herself.