Trailer Hitches.

He came up behind me and asked me, “What aisle are the trailer hitches?” I wasn’t sure so I had to look it up on the phone the store had given us. “Aisle 73, at the other end of the store,” I told him.
“Great, thanks.” He hesitated.
He continued, “I like your semi colon tattoo. I understand, been there, trust me.”
Taken aback, because no one seemed to really know what the meaning of the semi colon, I incredulously asked, “Really?”
“Oh yeah. Rough time, I appreciate seeing it. What do the words mean?”
He meant the other part of my tattoo that had a Sylvia Plath quote, “I am, I am, I am,”
I told him this. He seemed surprisingly interested – whenever I try to explain to people, that no, my tattoo is not in memoriam of Dr. Seuss (although he was a great writer and general bad ass), I explained to him her affect on me.
How Sylvia Plath, although 50+ years deceased, was still alive within me. I have a copy of her Unabridged Journals that’s edited by Karen V. Kukil that I’ve been reading for the last 2 years. Her vivid descriptions, her all too true and all too relatable emotions and conflicts, affect me so much I’m only able to read her small doses. I explained to the seemingly nice and normal man, that it was from her book, “The Bell Jar,” that my tattoo symbolizes. The passage goes as such:

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”

Tied with the semicolon it’s a reminder to myself that I’m doing alright. I’m still alive, my heart still fuels my body, my mind, my soul. It’s not the end, not just yet.
Of course I didn’t tell him all this. But I did discuss with him my adoration of the deceased writer and that he should not only read “The Bell Jar” but also listen to her reading of her poem, “Daddy.” We parted ways amicably, and I had almost wished I had asked for his name. I would’ve liked to talk with him more.
I doubt he realized how happy his acknowledgment of my tattoo meant to me. It means so much more than he will ever know.

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