In the midst of chaos what do you dream of?
Life has been stressful over here the past couple weeks and I have been pretty damn good at keeping cool, keeping calm, keeping positive when others around me seem to be unraveling. Well I guess it’s my turn to be the loosely-knitted sweater with the one thread that is dangling in the breeze. It came on so fast. And just as I was congratulating myself on being so even-keeled.
Don’t get me wrong. Things are not horrible. Just a few small sinkholes along the shell-covered pathway. In times like these when I feel I’m being swallowed, my mind goes to the things I miss.
I miss floating in the salty gulf with the prospect of a nearby dolphin gracefully hurling itself out of the water. I miss the flashing lights above a dance floor. I miss dancing wildly. I miss the Oprah Winfrey Show.
I miss the rousing touch of fingers and hands and lips on the body. I miss writing down my dreams when I remember them instead of trying to recall them when the details have fizzled with the rising sun. I miss Haagen-Dazs chocolate peanut butter ice cream. Can’t find it at my local groceries. Just as well.
I miss my old, cheap, grocery store-bought flip flops that I busted. But they are the muse for this blog. Busted, I mean. Not when they were new.
So I guess I’m feeling pretty busted right now. The gulf is cold. Oprah has her own network. My friends can’t come out and play. No massages coming my way.
Maybe it’s time to buy a new pair of flippity flops. Ones that can help me climb out of the sink hole before it becomes quick sand. But I’ll still keep the old busted ones.