Wet

 

I have fallen off the curb.

This happens from time to time. Occasionally, I go down with a splash into the gutter or twist my ankle. This time is nothing that dramatic. More like a slip and a slide. A scrapped ankle.

I prefer the sidewalk. I’m not the type of person that jumps into the road. Although I secretly admire those people, I’ve never had it in me to court danger. The sidewalk is a good and even place for me.

I’m happy as I step from concrete square to concrete square. There’s the determined weed or a push from a random flower. Chalk drawings pop up on sidewalks. I love art.

The sidewalk is where hopscotch is played, marbles. Granted all sports and sweaty things come to life on the asphalt, in between passing cars.

But the sidewalk has a built in seat. A place to rest. Leaves drift near the sidewalk after a glorious rain.

If a tree grows in a nearby patch, the sidewalk rises and allows for the troublesome roots in exchange for the shade.

At first glance, the sidewalk may seem safe. A dull, monotonous path of squares, but when a person lives on the sidewalk she witnesses the fractured light of the leaves above.

The street, with all its bustle, is seductive. That’s what happened.

I forgot to look up. Forgot the birds return to their nests in the spring. I erased the memory of warmth on my bare feet.

The cars were shiny and the music spilling from them loud. I wandered too close to the edge of my sidewalk and slipped.

Time to get back up.

My thoughts from the laundry room. Turn Over.

acceptance crazy life fall learning life Spirit thoughts

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