Tuesday, April 27, 2010

relearning how to breathe

My to do list is starting to rattle me, like a constant off-key hum. Life doesn't present its demands and obligations in a neat and orderly fashion. Random order and in batches is more likely.
Once, long ago, I unsuspectingly opened the door to our outside storage, and a huge roll of carpet hurtled out and struck me on the bridge of my nose. Do you see the metaphor? No one can be completely prepared, but overloading life's closet is risky.
In an act of procrastination, I went for a stroll this evening. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. What had happened to my depth perception? The city never sleeps is seems. Trucks were shifting down on some far away hill, a dog barked, and my ears were suddenly filled and ringing with a symphony of frogs.
My day slipped out of mind. My eyes were drawn up to the widening circle of moon-lit sky surrounded by banks of cloud with their torn paper edge. Stars glinted; diamonds around the throat of night. I was just relearning how to breathe and it was time to go in, but I came in singing.


Jean said...

Glenda, thank you so much for introducing us to your blog tonight at the guild meeting! I've just read through every entry and am left wanting more. You have a true talent!

Jean said...

PS You can find me at nibbleandstitch.blogspot.com