Dictatorship of the Heart

I sit here curled up in my chair, wrapped in a blanket with a warm cup of tea, listening to the gentle pit pat of rain against my window. Rainy days are the best for sitting and reflecting on the ideas and problems of life. I hardly ever get a day like this. I treasure the moment and sigh into my cup a silent prayer of gratitude.

"Samantha, could you please come fold this sheet for me?" A shrill voice interrupted my reverie.

"I'll be right there." I shouted.

My sigh must have shown too much peace. I get out of my chair reluctantly and make my way to the laundry room.

"I have a few fitted sheets and you know how horrible I am at folding these blasted things."

I grabbed the first sheet and began folding allowing my mind to wander again.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you." I was shaken from my reverie once more.

"No, you didn't disturb me." I smiled, "In fact, it's a welcome distraction."

"What is on your mind that you need a distraction?"

"I've just been thinking is all."

"Oh, that's dangerous. A thinking mind can lead to a lot of misguided imaginings. Anything you want to talk about?"

I grab the last of the sheets lingering over the fabric trying to determe if I wanted to talk about it truthfully, and where to even begin.

"It's a bit complicated." I finally said, "I was given the suggestion that I fear acceptance, or lack thereof."

"Go on." She pushed clearly intrigued.

"Since moving here I have a job and this wonderful apartment. I have amazing friends, neighbors, and co-workers, but I've realized that I have never shared my story with anyone. My true story from start to finish. I always thought it was because the past is the past and I just have to keep moving forward, but then it was suggested that maybe it's because I harbor shame and I'm afraid no one will accept me."

"Well, I've never been one to pry, but I must say that I have always been curious of you. I just know you as the woman who lives next to the laundry with sorcerous powers to fold fitted sheets." The woman laughed.

"Well, if you knew me better you most likely wouldn't be too keen in asking me to help you fold a fitted sheet." I looked pointedly at her.

"You have a lack of faith in my character judgment. I take offense!" She laughed, "Honestly, though, I don't care if you used to be a serial killer. You are kind enough to help an old woman out with your black magic."

"Yes, but wouldn't it change the way you look at me? Take the serial killer scenario. Wouldn't you question if I would ever turn on you and kill you?" I asked.

"Look, you're past is your past and you can't let it define you if that's no longer who you are. If people want to judge you on what you did then they will miss out on the amazing things you could do. Plus, if you want to kill me please get on with it so I don't have to do another bloody load of laundry!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Phyllis, and just so you know I was never a serial killer." I chuckled.

"The luck for this Irish woman has run out then I suppose." She picked up her basket of laundry, "Dear, whatever you have done in your past I wouldn't want you to change a thing. You're are the sweetest young lady to come to this apartment and whoever you're afraid won't accept you is foolish if they choose otherwise." She kissed me on the cheek and gave me a warm smile.