Self-Portrait in Color

I think,

my Russian ancestors were

traveling gypsies in radiant skirts.

Otherwise,

how could I explain my desire

for always laughing?

Yesterday,

I strolled the streets of Miami

in lilac suspenders,

red scarf, and scarlet beret.

Marcel Marceau,

that once celebrated Frenchman,

would approve my chalk-white face,

my cherry-red lips.

And suddenly,

a teenage girl sprang out at me,

"You are Mime!"

She shrieked with delight,

Excuse me,

"Are you a Mime?!"

She flung her right hand at me,

and there I saw them -

a five-dollar bill and two singles -

seven in total, crumpled

on her pink, sweaty palm.

I smiled sheepishly,

shaking my head in a

"Oh, No-no," universal motion.

Then,

thought to myself,

"Don't be silly,"

and took the money

as a bird would

peck at offered crumbs.

Yes, a Mime I am,

a clown,

a wandering minstrel.

Although,

my college diploma

would beg to differ,

stating that

I am an Emergency Doctor,

graduated from

the Medical School in Russia, in '83.

Trained in how our brain works,

skilled in bedside manners.

And, yet,

I found my MD job unfitting.

White is not my favorite color.

At the time,

in a healthcare setting,

it was all starchy white and

keep your emotions in check.

You'll get the picture.

So I had to search far and wide

for what was mine,

what was for me.

Like everyone else,

I had my highs and lows.

But I knew,

I'm the happiest

when I make other people happy.

I know 

I made my husband happy

for our eighteen years of marriage.

Then I lost him to

Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy,

horrible illness.

We thought alike.

He too believed in joy

and was happy for me

when I

stumbled over

a clowning gig.

He knew me,

knew who I was,

while others rolled their eyes,

"You are an MD," they would say,

"Why wouldn't you want to be an MD? 

"It's prestigious and is paid well."

They'd throw hands up in the air

indicating total insanity.

But to no avail.

And so now that I have been

a professional clown

for as long as I could remember,

I know - clowns are

very much like doctors.

They prevent illnesses.

They heal.

This is me and mine,

This is a job

that I could do well

and well into my nineties,

and it comes with

dazzling colors of joy,

laughter

and love.