She Said (Relations) ~
Stripped down to the studs, bare bones, the cold hard truth stares back at me and for the very first time I don’t want to look away.
This time, I much prefer to take the introspective route and dive deep into the dark murky waters of truth.
For I have stood on the precipice of acceptance before and opted for illusion.
I have willingly tangoed and waltzed across thin ice and never acknowledged the cracks. I have not tried to mend or fill them in with gold to symbolize their beauty.
I have merely skated, continued the performative dance, committed to going down with the ship.
Anything else has been unthinkable.
He Said (Alarms) ~
One more snooze my mind decides, so my hand obeys and taps the obnoxiously bright screen on my phone. 540 seconds later the antagonistic announcement that my rather brief respite has concluded transpires, but I tap one more time. Nine minutes elapse and the dreaded tune – (btw, there is nothing melodic about this noise, so why did I select this crappy cacophony to be my alert to rise) – now demands I cease and desist with this whole charade and get the BLANK UP!
Cautiously I lift the upper portion of my body. Might be more accurate to write, suspiciously I ascend from my slumber. My skepticism stems from the loss of faith I have recently incurred, toward my body. It decided to make some changes during the last 5-to-10 years, but I failed to get the memo. No one informed me feeling my knees would become a daily occurrence. Nor was it mentioned that before completing the descension from my mattress, I would be accompanied by concerning creaks and somber squeaks.
It is acceptable. Well, what choice do I have? I cannot “opt-out” of aging. Instead, I will wistfully embrace the aches and do my best to stay flexible, and keenly aware of kamikaze acorns.
She Said (Cleansing) ~
There is something to be said about clarity, cleaning, organizing and tidying things up. It brings peace to a fragmented mind.
It keeps busy otherwise idle hands and allows the dust settled to rise, the slate to be wiped clean.
Room to room to room, the broom glides across the wooden floor clearing up crumbs, evidence of life and all other remnants. The mop head scented with lemon glow creates sparkle and shine.
The scent of freshly laundered clothes lingers in the air as you fold, store and repeat. Somehow, there is comfort in these simple tasks and a sense of accomplishment – if only for a moment.
He Said (Almost Autumn in New York) ~
Fall is superior to Spring cleaning. Why? Once September dawns brilliant shades modify our landscape, pumpkin penetrates proudly perfuming the atmosphere, décor is deliberated and consequently celebrated, a general ease of tension tends to triumph, as the air invigorates in a crispy closure of summer’s conditioned confinement.
Did You Know? Because of changes in the length of daylight and changes in temperature, the leaves stop their food-making process. The chlorophyll breaks down, the green color disappears, and the yellow to orange colors become visible and give the leaves part of their fall splendor.