Ack. 2 weeks behind already. This is going to take some strength – strength to write instead of sleep. Ahh, the great battle of joys. As the score is now, sleep is a few body lengths ahead. I feel like there should be a cheer section or something. You know, go underdog?
So I was driving to the store for some bananas when it was raining and my eyes fell upon the ripples of a puddle. They stayed for several minutes as they do when the object of attraction triggers a fast flash of, say, 12 memories all at once. They’re never inter-related on any scale, especially time (which is interesting in this case because ripples in any amount of water, from puddle to ocean, inevitably lead me to ponder time). I suppose I should mention I was at a stop light.
And so the flash goes…
…lying with my head on a pillow that lay on a lap that belonged to a boy that sat on a couch that sat on the floor that was owned by my old apartment…
…shadows of branches that my tree let dance on the ceiling orchestrated by cinnamon-apple candles…
…running with my pregnant belly in circles around the path that I only loved in the fall…
…drinking coffee and eating strawberries, contemplating the dunking of the strawberries in that very coffee…
…crying on the bed of my freshman year dorm room, over and over and over again because I didn’t understand why it was so important to leave home…
Of the estimated 12 memories, those are all I remember of the flash. Funny, I can’t remember memories.
I seem to use every peaceful moment I get to take off to somewhere else in my imagination. Does that mean I’m bored with my life as it is or that I just disagree with what’s real? I’m fairly certain my real is very different from anyone else’s real. Though I would hope everyone had that same thought, otherwise it’d be like a department store showcase with a wooden floor that spins round and round and all the people standing on it turn into mannequins.
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