Becoming Me, installment 2

*

I never have figured out just how it works, why I can just assume someone’s life and their personality as if I’ve had a lifelong symbiotic relationship with them. But they cease to exist I know, I checked once on my past self when I became someone new. She was missing, only her car was found in the parking lot where I had become this new person. I wonder, is it that their soul left before its time and I took over to fill the void, to fulfill the undone work in their lives? Is it just some fluke of nature, some birth defect I have that lets me bypass all the normal laws of universe? Do I have some special power or ability that lets me take over the lives of others? Was I predestined to this by some higher power? Or do I simply will it to happen out of desperation? I thought that was what had happened the first time, my will simply making it happen, but now I'm not so sure. Not with the dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting in the Armada it turns out, was the answer to my dreams, at least for now. I had escaped the bonds of housewifeyness and of motherhood. And although I was sorry that the children had lost their mother, I was easily just as happy that I was me; it was thrilling to be Gena. Gena had a high paying job, she was single and she was wild. Gena was beautiful and carefree and happy. Gena was me, I was Gena

It seems I was visiting my dying mother out there in the hot Sonoran desert, the last cord tethering me to the family I had never wanted anything to do with, the family that Gena had never wanted anything to do with. I was happy to be free of them all at last. The things I had endured as part of that family left me feeling so bitter that I rarely dared to let the memories creep into my conscious thoughts.

My trip back across the country gave me a lot of time to adjust to all the changes that would greet me once I made it to my apartment in New York City. While it was easy to just become someone else physically, dealing with the changes in my head took some time. I looked forward to all that this new life had to offer me, but at the same time I could not quite let go of the past. I found myself wondering if all mothers daydreamed of some other life they might have, or was it only me, the personality kleptomaniac. Did Suzy homemaker down the road entertain fantasies about being a singer in Vegas, or perhaps dream of being a high payed ad exec in a high rise building somewhere far from home. Did any of them ever think about escape to a more glamorous, less selfless life than that offered by motherhood? Was I just selfish and self serving or would they too choose a new life if they could?