I Believe

I believe in ambiguity,

straddling the fence,

speaking out of both sides of one’s mouth,

passive aggression,

forked tongued heroes,

and having one’s cake

and eating it, too.

Let it not go unsaid

that I believe in tongue in cheek humor,

sarcasm to prove a point,

the art of the ancient mental tease,

and jerking

and rattling

the chains of others.

(Did I hear the clinking melody of your metal tether?)

I believe in right

and wrong.

I believe shades of grey

are for the color of houses,

conservative men’s trousers,

and gloomy

overcast days.

I believe in trying,

sometimes

flat-out failing,

and then trying

again.

I believe I should live

like I believe

and trust in God.

I believe I should live

like God believes and trusts

in me.

I believe in family and friends,

in happiness

and sadness

and everything

in between.

I believe in the steadfastness

of my children’s small hands in mine

and the slipperiness

when nearly full-grown hands

pull

from my once powerful grasp,

for that is life’s

progression

as it is meant to be.

I believe in painting with words

on life’s canvas, a kaleidoscope,

weathered and stained

with truth and experience,

no matter how limited

or how vast,

choosing specialized colors:

integrity ivory, willowy wisdom,

hot pink honesty,

indigo insight,

and lemon-lime

laughter.

I believe in life’s luxuries.

I believe in spell-check,

snooze buttons,

3 x 5 index cards,

erasable ink,

microwave ovens,

electric can-openers, full-service

gas stations and car washes,

automatic transmissions,

elevators,

and baby

monitors.

I believe in brightly colored lipstick,

hot rollers,

ultimate-hold hair spray,

and those long steamy showers

that empty

the hot water heater.

I believe in facial mud masks

that scare big dogs,

small children, and

wide-eyed

husbands.

I believe in shaving wild hairs

on big toes

and never, never,

under any circumstances,

picking one’s nose in public.

(Unless, of course,

no one is looking.)

I believe in smiling

over the simple

straightforward things:

fresh out of the can tennis balls,

a new pack of college ruled notebook paper,

a Craigslist piano

with no stuck keys,

a green apple

with no brown bruises,

and paper towels

that tear off

evenly.

However,

having strong convictions,

there are some profound

prevailing assumptions

I do not believe,

and a few popular practices,

I believe,

I would

never do.

I do not believe, as they used to say,

pork is “the other

white meat”—have you ever seen

a piece of white ham, Sam I am?

I think not.

I do not believe “control top pantyhose”

control—have you ever seen

what comes spilling

out over the embedded

waist band?

For your sake,

I sincerely hope not.

I do not believe I would ever bungee

jump—I might be blonde,

but my hair color

comes out of a box

and I aim to keep

each bleached

and stiffly sprayed strand

in place

and unharmed.

I do not believe I would ever, ever, ever,

under any circumstances, embarrass

my children—on accident,

that is.

Yes, I believe in ambiguity,

straddling the fence,

speaking out of both sides of one’s mouth,

passive aggression,

forked tongued heroes,

and having one’s cake

and eating it, too.

Rattle, Rattle.

Clink, Clink.

Love that melody,

I believe.

Deborah Majors

I Believe