Yes, it is Sunday and I didn't even need to check the calendar. I can always tell because I hear the [thwack] of the big paper as it hits the door. Time again for Stream of Consciousness Sunday. The rules are simple! Set a timer for five minutes, write (but don't edit), publish, and link up here. This is what I have to say today even though I really wanted to say something completely different to begin with...
I could spend these next five minutes wallowing or ranting. I want to. It would be super easy too. It has been the kind of weekend that’s filled with nothing but worsening news. Horrible.
And my sleeping buddy is out of town. And I wanted to relish it in solitude. And planned to eat a million things, and everything, bad for me.
My ice cream.
Instead I am not sleeping well, fielding disturbing text messages, and never made it to the store to buy the bad stuff. It is after noon; I could turn to wine.
But I have this collection of poetry next to me. It is the first time I have ever read one. It somehow makes me feel lighter just holding it. Is it magic?
It is so lovely. My heart seems in a constant state of pitter-pattering flutter as my eyes sip the words. It is like a feast of fine chocolate. A word buffet. Of too many good things. And my spirits is soaring.
I am usually a very impulsive person. If I love something, I devour it. But I am using every ounce of restraint I have to eat this up slooooowly. Savor. Taste.
Read each poem.
Take more in.
If it weren’t for this book, these poems, I don’t know what I would have done this weekend. There isn’t any wine in the house. I didn't get to the store.
Which works better for you? Wine or poems?