It is the ten-year anniversary of my abortion.
When this date comes around, I think of breadsticks.
I wasn’t pressured to make the choice.
I was treated with respect and care at the clinic.
I was asked, repeatedly, if this was what I wanted.
There was never any doubt.
In the comfort of home, I took the second pill.
After I was sure it was staying down, I slept.
When I woke up, late into the night, I felt free.
I felt gratitude.
I felt relief.
I felt hungry.
I walked softly down the hall,
Past my sleeping daughter,
Thinking, “I did this for you, too,”
And stopped at the fridge.
The morning sickness gone, I feasted.
My life was mine again,
And freedom tastes like breadsticks.
