Joining Gypsy Mama with a five-minute unedited writing prompt…

BACKWARDS

I get it all backwards and mixed up.

Sometimes I shine the outside of that cup so shiny it is hard to look at. Sometimes leave the inside so grungy it is hard to live in this old skin.

Sometimes I spend more time on the things that pass away and fade instead of investing in the immortals I am surrounded by.

Sometimes (and usually at the most important moments), my tongue seizes up inside my mouth. I can’t for the life of me give an adequate response. When moments are the least important, when it would be prudent to bite my tongue, it wags like a disobedient dog.

Often times, I get lazy and grass grows under my feet because I’ve stood in the same place for too long. If you stop moving forward; growing, stretching, reaching you start moving backwards. Nothing is static.

Other days, on a morning like this I move the right direction. Up too early, knowing that to navigate this day with dignity I have to start the day right. Open journal, open bible, I pull rocking chair to window sill and soon little boy makes his way under the blanket I am wrapped in. We watch the sun pitch itself into the sky and see the trees stretch into shadows.  We watch the clouds settle in a solid sheet over the valley. Today having no words was just right and holding on tight to beauty was the only lesson that we needed.

Perhaps, I’m really not so backwards after all.