comfort 3
It’s May 11th and I’ve spent most of the day peering out windows, marveling at how much snow and ice has been pounding down upon my little corner of the earth. It’s an apt metaphor for a year that’s been full of climate change, natural disasters and unexpected downpours.
For most of this winter I’ve been punch-drunk and woozy. I find my tongue rolling around my mouth, checking to see if all of my teeth are still in place. During my more self-pitying moments, I swear I can taste blood.
As a result, I’ve been a little obsessed with the notion of comfort.
I want a life of wool sweaters, knit caps, shaggy dogs, twee scottish bands, boys and girls in love, rubber boots splashing through puddles, bunk-beds with flannel sheets, backyard tents, indoor forts, red right ankles, dancing till dawn, finger-painting, smiles with a secret, apron strings, digging for worms, holding hands too tight, first days at school and last days at summer camp.
*sigh*….a fellow kindred spirt….melancholy can be so melodious can’t it? I can soooooooo relate to everything you wrote.
That annoying little jingle “I don’t want to grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid” has been re-playing itself at whim as of late.
But I was thinking about it…who says you can’t be a big kid? As long as you pay your bills, show up for client meetings and/or work and do your job then everything’s good right? *smile*
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it…..
PS. Congratulations on your first blog!
Jaysus H. Kee-rist! ‘rnt u 20 yrs 2 old 4 this crap? Hve u got a black turtleneck grafted ontaya? Nxt thng u knw, u’ll b smokin french cuts & wishin joy division was still around.
Nice looking blog. You’ll have to let me know how much work it is.
Hanging on to a little bit of childhood should be easier for you, since you are a creative type, and hopefully, see reality throug a different lense than most people. Try to hang on to the magic of childhood–leave the yucky awkward stuff behind.
The snow sucks. April showers bring May flowers, and May blizzards kill them. The few shell shocked tulips we have left huddle around the furnace exhaust vent, contemplating their headless comrades, who, stalks portruding from the snow pile, remind us of how much snow in May sucks.
I know things are in flux for you now, but take advantage of the freedom of your youth! Write that novel, paint that masterpiece, milk that goat, make that cheese. Eventually your time will find new constraints.
And Cheryl, if you are reading this, I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t have it any other way.