“I’m sorry, should I have not brought it up?”
The cringe worthy look on my husband’s face was wrinkled with concern.
“It’s ok,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I don’t mind talking about it.”
I took a deep breath and said, ” I was raised in a religious cult.”
“Hey! Me too!” they said.
Instinctively, I raised my hand. They raised theirs and our two appendages met with a resounding smack.
“Did we just high five about being in cults?” they wondered.
“Fuck yes we did.” I said.
I need to be more mindful. Be present in the moment and draw inspiration from the things that I witness each day. Be present. Be present. Be present.
Let’s try working on it now:
I’m sitting in the dark room, on our soft bed, with my legs bent in front of me, the soles of my feet touching each other. The fan is on and I am cold, in my sleeveless dress. I like the cold. I am so often hot and sweating, that I welcome the sensation of being truly cold. I wish I could will this same chill on myself when I am too warm.
My nose is the coldest of all, but my hands are quite warm, so I like holding my nose a bit and feeling the warm and cold contrast in my hand.
The fan is drying out my eyes, thank god I don’t wear contacts. The glasses are an ever present fixture, but my cornea shape is way too off to wear contacts comfortably.
There is a rustling sound in the room, coming over the baby monitor. She was 2 this past January, but I still keep an audio monitor going, just in case there’s the occasional bad dream or leaky diaper.
My eyes feel heavy, and I know sleep must come soon. Tomorrow is a busy day, and rest is needed if I’m to be mindful in it.
The top of my head is open
And all of the voices pour in
Their stories are aching me to get out
But my story must be told first instead.
So I slam my head closed with an impact
And my inspiration leaves me as well.
A Monday it is.
A Monday it’s not.
A Monday that’s good.
A Monday that’s sought.
I took a drive earlier today in hopes of getting any shred of inspiration for writing. Driving around winding roads canopied by heavy trees uually does the trick, but I found myself trying to imagine the future instead of focusing on the present. I can’t get the future I want until I put the work into the present day. Any tips on doing this?
I’m all about creative writing prompts these days. The title of this post is my latest venture from my book of prompts. Enjoy.
When you bite into it, the texture is almost indescribable. Juice spurts into your mouth, and if it’s especially tasty, you may have a little dribbling down your chin. It crunches between the teeth, yet melts on the tongue. It’s refreshing, yet elusive. Each separate piece can vary in texture and sweetness, but even the most drab bite can be livened with a sprinkle of salt. So go ahead, take a big bite, savor it, spit out those seeds, and have another piece of watermelon.