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Barricade the Exit

The way forward occluded

I, knowing only where I've come,

turn.

Will someone with that knowing gaze

barricade the exit


I've always been fascinated by a specific scene from the musical Hamilton. While young men in powdered wigs go to die for reasons they find compelling, Eliza is home and pregnant with she and Alexander's first child, unbeknownst to him. "You should have told me." He laments. She sings. "I don't pretend to know, the challenges you're facing. The worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind. But I'm not afraid. I know who I married. As long as you come home at the end of the day, that will be enough." The mere thought of this image brought tears to my eyes for several years. A call to arms. Barricade the exit. Don't come home until you've finished. That effortless knowing. That's a woman among women. I feel foolish even commenting on it. There's a woman who's done that for me, to me. Effortless. How did this happen? Why am I this way? I want to find myself humbled at the feet of my greatest confidante. No one will ever see this. And you, ditto


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