Some days I suck down my coffee like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
You would think I started young, a precocious 5 year old drinking coffee with her father or a 12 year old hiding in the corner of a Starbucks with her friends. I’m here to tell you, no. I started drinking this glorified bean juice when I was 27, only after years of my partner at the time guzzling down 2+ pots a day.
I was tired and sluggish and thought well if it keeps him going, but in this a phenomena unfolded.
I didn’t want him to know. If drinking coffee brought me tranquility I just knew he would disparage it. In my mind he was already painting it as an idolization of him.
I hid my growing habit, carefully deciding when I could partake and when I should go without. But I also found myself watching, watching his coffee habits, his preferred brands and taking notes for myself. Eventually his presence faded away but many of these stolen habits stayed.
Photo: Pexel’s photo library Photo shows latte art of a flower
Mia had a blanket made of the articles written about her. Articles questioning her wardrobe, her hair, her parenting and on and on. Some were reviews of her stage performances, both good and bad but many were her villainization.
“Nightmare to work with” said one.
“Absent.” simply said another.
“Son will never speak to her again.” Blared the biggest headline.
The aging pieces, haphazardly stapled together, covered her king sized bed.
Mia hauled the blanket to the back garden, draping it over the fire pit she created. In a rush of orange flame and sudden warmth, she lit one corner and watched it spread.
Have you guys ever literally burned something from the past? This is a ritual I like for the new year. You write down something you wish to release and burn it.
I’ve traveled the world, hiding in every corner. I’m an observer by nature, leaning into the shadows to learn. The further I traveled the more invisible I became. Patterns in existence seemed to close for me.
Just a very short, possibly a beginning, for the word prompts today,
A lone lamb grazed in the middle of a field just outside our walls. We watched her every now and then, stopping our mindless buzzing about our small town. She wandered through the grasses, eventually making her way towards our bubble. She pressed her nose against the shield designed to protect us from the outside world. Her pink flesh caused rainbow waves of light to roll along the translucent surface. She seemed to delight in this, hopping away before venturing back.
Some despaired. “Nothing can live out there.”
One group petitioned the village leaders to take on the responsibility of saving the lamb’s life. They refused, as our leaders are apt to do.
We gathered along the wall, watching the lamb come and go, expecting she would cease to appear at any moment.
The lamb persisted, staunchly ignoring the limits of our expectations.
Image from Pexel’s Photo Library (isn’t it cute?!)