If only.

Preface: this piece was inspired by the Hevria post: http://hevria.com/matthue/your-frei-reflection/

As my day walks by me, unaware of my demands, I sometimes wonder what it would be like...if. Occasionally an 'only' tagged on the end: if only.
If only my skirts were pants and my shirts had hems that were a little more forgiving. If only my skin could feel the brush of people against me as we pulsed in a rave, in a club, in a bar. Anywhere "cool", anywhere but here.
But then I feel the pulse of my heart in my wrist as I tug my sleeve with my hand. I feel the whisper of my soul as I turn the pages of the sefer.
And more than any of these feelings, I know. I get it.
So yes, sometimes my mind thinks back on the moment that shlucha stopped my mother in the store because of her hebrew, the kids in the cart unaware of the shift that was beginning.
But, I know that if I wore tank tops and shorts, I wouldn't have enough material to keep my heart from falling out.