Sunday, February 8, 2009

letter to the first lady

dear eve -- 

i've been thinking about you, there in the garden experiencing the same -- if perfect -- day over and over. i wonder if the apple was a premeditated scheme. were you happy to blame the serpent for the fantastic plan you cooked up to get out of the routine? i wonder -- and perhaps this is a bit graphic -- did you have a period? did you wonder exactly how that biological nuisance fit into the plan if you were to stay childlike and childless? did that monthly interruption of perfection give you the insight and courage to do what adam could not: see a life outside the garden? 

were you afraid? when you took a bite of that apple, did it occur to you that adam might let you go and that you would be yes -- as wise as the gods, but still childless and now all alone and cast out. did you rehearse a few ways to present the original ultimatum to adam? whatever you said, it worked. we single girls could take a lesson on convincing a man that comfort and ease don't trump the terrifying unknowns outside the perimeter if you've got a good companion. surely being the only woman put a check in your plus column.  

we're a grateful world that adam took the bait although your curse is with us today. see, despite the eons of time between your shot at mortality and mine, the nature of man (and woman) hasn't changed much. we women are still usually the first to get the itchin' to leave the garden. most every woman that's walked the earth since you, flesh of your flesh, has been cursed to replay your definitive scene in the garden. some of us a few times. only now that scary apple has been replaced with other symbols: a ball and chain, a baby rattle, a diamond ring. millions of pages have been written on how a woman can convince her adam to commit to a new life... did this genesis of relationship stories set the template?  and any tips for a girl without access to forbidden fruit and fielding a handful -- ok a world -- of other females that sometimes can distract even the good adams.

help a sista out,