whichever way she lands...

In May 2006, I got this as a tattoo. It's the second of two I have.

The first was engraved in 1998, in summertime. The what and the where were a perfect fit. I was feeling strong again, after a long period of despondency. My renewed power came from my core and I wanted to mark my resurgence with permanence. And thus I became the Atomic Gal.

I've stumbled some in the intervening years, and I've gotten down again. But my first tattoo remains a touch-point, literally. It reminds me what I'm capable of, and of the depths I've reached (as well as the highs). It is a potent symbol, but easily misread; at quick glance, it could be a flower, its loops like petals; the dot in the center might be a seed.

But to me, with its circularity and symmetry, with its simple order, it signifies power, resilience and strength. And for many years, I was content with this one simple, secret tattoo.

And then came the Hurricane. And my divorce. What Katrina didn't do, my ex did. House gutted. Security stolen. Mementos lost to me, washed away to another shore.

It took years to account for the extent of the damage. Times many times over of looking for this thing or that (a kitchen utensil; a Christmas ornament; a book, a cd, a photograph), and realizing that I didn't have it anymore because he did. He took it with his leaving, believing it his right. And I never had a chance to say goodbye.

These things were lost to me (along with many people - many of them once cherished). And though it took years to count the losses, I realized right away what I still had.

I was, despite this misfortune, lucky. I lost a man (who proved by his manner of leaving that he wasn't really worth all the crying); I lost some stuff. But I had - and still have - a family who loves me, friends who support me, and plenty enough talent and wits to survive and surmount any tragedy or obstacle. I also had a comfortable place to live, the same one as pre-K; one without damage or flooding or blue tarp on the roof. I could only feel so sorry. Mostly I counted my blessings.

And I resolved to never take them for granted. I am the recipient of untold gifts, many due to the accident of birth and some due to grace (I strive to be kind and meet much of the same). I resolved to continue to earn it. I made a promise to do good by me, and marked this promise on my body, etched it into the most tender of skin (and had it touched up three months later). I will not falter; I will walk on.

It's black and bold and nearly the size of a beer coaster. But to see it, you must be an intimate. I see it every time I shower, undress or pause to pee.

"Whichever way she lands, she lands on her feet."

It's a reminder that life is but a swirl. That downs come up again (and ups, inevitably, go down). That friends, family and inherent good matter. That I am stronger than I often think myself to be. That grace goes further than faith and sometimes we just gotta go with the flow.