can you remind me?
sorry what was your name again?
How is your sister?
Oh my apologies, I must be confusing you with someone else.
What are you doing this weekend?
Sorry what do you do again?
Oh sorry that's right,
We were talking about this the other day...
***
A conversation like this,
is happening with a frequency that it should not.
trying to pack so much in that it's impossible to focus on the details,
process them,
and commit them to memory.
***
I know it's a first world problem,
but today I received a package:
A pair of shoes that was going to change my life.
Really.
No, really.
My hopes and dreams were supposed to arrive in the mail embodied in this pair of shoes.
The packaging was pulled apart,
and the box opened gingerly.
peeping inside to discover...
...the wrong colour.
:(
My heart became the shoe box.
And did the tears flow!
But it was not the shoes was it?
I peeped into the box to find myself, and I found beige.
I am not beige.
At least I don't think I am beige.
Could I be beige?
Really?
Oh ok, maybe I am beige then?
But I thought I was something else.
Which 'what' am i?
An existential crisis that began with a pair of shoes!
Of course,
it had NOTHING to do with the shoes!
It was a 'Who sank the boat?' moment.
Entirely relative my current state of over saturation,
and the health of ones soul that has been swept away with the overflow.
A minute a second.
An hour a minute.
A week a day.
A month a week.
Busy, busy busy-bee - 'ness'.
With trying to make dreams happen,
With aspiration.
and goals.
24 hour, non-stop.
Pondering.
Wishing.
Thinking.
Planning.
Daydreaming.
I'm trying to listen.
Really I am,
trying to sponge rather than sieve.
And,
I really tried to see the stairs but instead,
I fell down and smashed my dinner all over the floor.
It had nothing to do with the inconvenience of having smashed my dinner.
It was trying to see in the dark,
and being disappointed that I still missed.
despite my trying not to.
That I tried and missed.
Perhaps.
And now there are skid marks from my shoes on the stairs,
a bruise on my knee,
a ladder in my new stockings,
and one less bowl in the house,
to remind me that
no,
Despite all of the expectation that I have piled onto my tiny human body,
I'm not superhuman afterall,
that time is linear,
that there is only so much you can do in a day,
and that all work and no play,
makes for very poor dinner conversation.
***
And she shall whisper soft words of encouragement to herself,
sweep the broken dinner into the bin,
dust herself off,
and leave the house with a ladder in her stockings.
