Excuse me, this is my seat.

How do I know? I just do. Just like I know this is my hand, and this is my child, and this is my life.

I worked really hard for that seat. I didn’t always succeed, but that’s why it’s that seat. It’s not for the perfectly perfect. There is no seat for the perfectly perfect because there would be no one to sit in it.

Excuse me, this is my seat. Perhaps you confuse my light steps with uncertainty. Or unwillingness. I understand why you might think that way, but it’s just not true. I don’t need to be the loudest or the most demanding. I just have to know that it’s my seat. Which I do.

Excuse me, this is my seat. Actually, I don’t need to be excused. I can just tell you, with certainty and humility, that this is my seat. Your doubt is merely a reflection of my own, and I appreciate your volunteering to show me that.

I don’t have to feel bad, or apologize, for the fact that I sometimes don’t know. Or that I sometimes can’t find my seat. Or mistake it for another. That’s all part of the fun – discovering over and over where my seat is. And why my seat is.

Don’t be concerned if I don’t always sit in it. Sometimes I may stand on it, sometimes I may dance around it, sometimes I curl my body in a little ball and hold myself. It, like me, has no obligation to be only one thing. Those seats are somewhere else, and I have no interest in them.

Excuse me, this is my seat. I would say I have earned it, but that’s not strictly true. It’s been a co-conspiracy between the universe and me.

From my seat, the fullness of who I am is possible. I might be offering solace, or silliness, or righteous indignation. I might curse and I might cry. I might shock you or ignore you. Your experience is not actually my responsibility. Or my problem. As you know. Or should know.

This is my seat. I don’t need to force you to agree, just as I don’t have to force you to agree with gravity or evolution. It just is.

This is my seat. It reminds me what I own, accept and create. It reminds me of all that lay at my feet.

This is my seat. I won’t fight you for it, for you would not fit there. Your seat is quite different, and not here. In it, you fit perfectly. Maybe you don’t want my seat, but you may believe that I shouldn’t have it either. That’s ok. It’s all ok. And still…

This is my seat.

Footnote: