Identity Crisis

–Not one of those

when you look in the mirror

and see your mother looking back,

No.

It’s when you look in the mirror

and don’t recognize that person

at all.

This is not the person I grew up with

When My four year-old says,

“Mommy, I don’t like your hair.

I miss your Rapunzel hair.

When will it grow back?

My wedding dress,

My claddagh ring,

my favorite shirt,

my underwear

are all way to big

to even be passable as baggy.

My cheeks aren’t full like a 20 year-old’s

but sunk-in like a 60 year-old with botox.

“Mommy when are your scars going to go away?”

“These don’t go away.

They were made by a doctor’s knife.”

I’m healthy.

I’m tired.

I’m recovering.

I’m cancer-free.

But who the hell is that in the mirror?