bowl of cherries
I have always been a big believer in hard work...blood, sweat, tears and all that. But lately, lately I'm beginning to wonder, and while I'm not exactly ready to doubt, I am starting to believe in the whole luck thing. Oh, I'm not ready to pull out the hammock and bail on my duties, but every once in a while a big pile of wonderful falls in my lap. Time was, when I would have called this frivolous. silly and naive. But these days, I know not to question it. I have taken to wearing my favorite accessory, rose colored glasses, all the time. These revelations have not come easy, they come by way of a lot of soul searching and living...call it age if you must.
For much of my life, everything else has come first, which is kinda the way I roll, and I'm fine with that. it still has it's place. But nowadays laundry, dusting and shuttling are taking a backseat to sitting in the garden, walking on a beach or jumping on a plane for parts unknown. I am known less for my quiet tucked away get it done and more for my sheer spectacle of surprises, I'm just not sure if bragging is allowed. Not to give you the wrong impression with all my nattering on about housework and hammocks,or to mislead you...but just maybe it was because I crossed my fingers, and my toes or wished upon a star. It could just be my good fortune, is probably more like it. A bit of magic sprinkled on top, certainly. karma, absolutely! a big ole bushel of blessings. luck running rampant.
I have never been a pessimist. Chicken Little is not my style. Doom merchant, spoilsport or killjoy are not acceptable. I am a kooky mixture of realist and dreamer with a huge sprinkling of mother earthyness thrown in. And man I do love walking on the sunny side of the street. Yet for all my make-believe putting-on-of-airs, I am hiding a certain cloudy foolishness. Nothing that will leave me baying at the moon and hiding under my bed, but still it could send me over the edge. So, I will scatter these seeds of confession to the wind. Let the sun nurture them with the understanding that they may grow into something I can befriend, at least come to terms with. Lately I have come to the realization that I'm not digging always being an adult. In fact, at times, it is kind of a drag. I'm tired of being responsible all the time! I want to play! or sort of play, it is kind of a big topic, and I'm sure traveling will also creep in. and the ocean, of course. I'm still trying to connect the dots, not sure how this will all play out, but bear with me. So, lottery. If I won the lottery, the first thing I would buy are plane tickets (and Frye boots) but mostly plane tickets. I love to travel. love it!
I want to paint. make jewelry. collect shells. write in my journals. make photo collages. take dance classes. I want to spend hours writing my book everyday, every stinking day. I want to look at the stars. walk on the beach. take photos of everything! I want to make jazzy play lists on my i-pod. organize 50 years worth of photos. hang paper lanterns through out the house. spend hours reminiscing with old friends over lunch. plants roses and cosmos in my yard. shop for vintage clothing. read trashy romance novels. watch movies that make me cry. get my hair cut short. drink really dry red wine. dance.
You know how it goes, childhood, care-free, skinned knees, shorts and unmatched blouses, trivial outdoor things, slamming screen doors, summer, schedule-free, options everywhere, obligations nowhere, life is good! you marvel at the expansive possibilities. Mostly. and then, as suddenly as a tropical storm coming out of a seemingly endless blue sky there are bills to be paid, children to feed, washers to repair, floors to wax, windows to wash, a tiny voice (may be my own) telling me I'm an adult now.There are still oceans to play in. sand castles to build. giggles in the night. ice cream cones. full moons and sunrises. kites to fly. shells to collect. dolphin, jelly fish and starfish to marvel at. books to read. beach balls, floaties and sunglasses. songs to sing. campfires. barbeque dinners. tangerine colored sun tans. and laughter. but now, I will be the one washing the beach towels.
Childhood may be all about long lazy days, but it’s also about transitions, huge, crazy, bumpy ones, without fail. It took me a while to realize that. I thought about it secretly a million times, but I'm pretty sure I've never said it out loud until now. Yeah, the hood I now call home is
So here I am, rushing from here to there, clapping my hands, snapping my fingers, whatever it takes to slip into the next phase, hoping that joy will appear and the whiners will surrender. All the while, I still feel that life is rosy. A bowl of cherries. Yeah, sometimes it can be the pits, make your face pucker. Sometimes the glass is half full. Sometimes it's half empty. And sometimes, it is filled with the perfect Manhattan—the one with a little cherry in it. Or an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top. Maybe you like to teeter somewhere in the middle if you are anything like me. So between the sundaes and the Manhattans, I was thinking about cherries today and they made me happy. I let go of all the crap I was holding onto so tightly, all the self-imposed deadlines and expectations, all the anxiety. all of it floated away. i felt like a kid again. and I made this.