A history of Karen
In honor of July 4th: who is more American than Karen?
Karen wants to be held, so hold her in your mind: she’s twenty again, lovely in the way that inspires kindness from strangers. Without knowing it, people want to make life easy for her. They feel her displeasure before she does; What’s wrong? Are you hungry? Do you need anything? Their hands quiver about her like flies, seeking things to hold, holding things open, opening things for her– Take a girl, tell her she can do no wrong. Kiss her palms, make her laugh the moment she wakes up; do this everyday and you will be surprised at how tall she grows, how quickly she expands like a balloon that only required a few deep breaths. She exceeds the window, attains sky. Beneath her the world becomes small and knowable. Her face floats with the birds and her temperament makes weather; she becomes Winter: boys shake in her presence, their bodies moving before their minds. She becomes a cold cold day: cities slow down for her; breaths rise and loiter mid-air: she knows the shape of a sharp exhale, a long sigh. She becomes too big to be unfelt, too big to last for very long. After her season is spent, the earth fancies newer things. She is metabolized, digested, spit back out, and she becomes at last a small woman in outdated clothing. Can you believe that’s Karen? Now: a pinched face in a shroud of hair. She glides through grocery aisles like some bashful bride, sneaking glances to either side, seeking watchful eyes. She forgets that they don’t look at her anymore. The hands are gone, the birds have flown away; she is just an old lady with an empty cart. Karen, once as tall as sky, looks up; the world has grown around her, great walls of people rising on all sides, and why is it so hard for them to hear her? When she speaks now she is always shouting. She is real, she insists. I’m here! Surely if they come close enough, they can find her beneath the smallness, it’s me. I’m here! Look her in the eyes only—they’re the one thing that hasn’t changed. They say that if you look closely you’ll meet a big little girl living inside that small old woman; she’ll invite you in for coffee; ask you for things sweetly; she’ll tell you not to forget her but afterwards all you’ll recall is that old woman calling for the manager… This is how she survives her changing world where things are not given but asked for. Karen shouts, points, stomps; in her anger she is growing, gloriously expanding, floating to the ceiling, she had forgotten the thrill of looking down. From up here, people are kind to her. They look her in the eyes; apologize as they should. It feels real; it feels nostalgic. She had missed the view! Once again they ask What’s wrong? Do you need anything? How can I help? They tremble, their breaths catch, and she is once again Winter.
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