'This is How it Is' by Kathy Seifert

This is how it is with desire. You see a guy that you like in—of all places— the umbrella department of Nordstrom’s. You don’t want an umbrella, but you do want the man. You wonder if you should strike up a conversation, but we’re talking umbrellas here so there’s not a whole lot to work with.

This is how it is with age: at forty-three, your choices narrow to two things, you either get bolder or you get complacent. So you wind up your courage and stand close enough to smell the spice of his aftershave and notice the fine hairs at the back of his neck. And you whisper, “Did you know it’s bad luck to open an umbrella indoors?”  

He smiles and says, “Shall we test that theory?” He opens an umbrella drawing you both under its intimate canopy.

This is how it is with love. You feel a spark inside your ribcage, mid-way between the heart and the stomach. It grows like a rising sun, spreading its energy and warmth. It is how you feel right now next to this man—alive and full and present.

This is how it is with luck. You notice the gold band on his ring finger and your heart sinks. You taste bitterroot in your throat, because you know there are certain places you refuse to go.

This is how it is with you.