A Wanderlust Heart

a secret code between women: are you safe? in a contact of eyes. i’m here if you need me, the littlest shift of a skirt, of an inclined head, of watching the man who is asking you to smile, bitch. you aren’t alone on the walls of restrooms, i was where you are too. the quiet doling of emergency numbers, the shelters. the space between two women in a largely empty train station. the waiting game of two women strangers who walk, quietly and quickly, to their cars in abandoned parking lots, who watch to be sure the other leaves safely. text me you get home safe. the tally marks of drinks on hidden wrists, carefully disguised as other things ever since men picked up on what it meant and used it to target the “weakest link.” 

take wrong turns. talk to strangers. open unmarked doors. and if you see a group of people in a field, go find out what they are doing. do things without always knowing how they’ll turn out. you’re curious and smart and bored, and all you see is the choice between working hard and slacking off. there are so many adventures that you miss because you’re waiting to think of a plan. to find them, look for tiny interesting choices. and remember that you are always making up the future as you go.