Ana lurches in bed, aching all over, exhausted.
Soon her son, Ethan, will come over for ‘cuddles’ and the day will begin, maybe more tiring than the night. Sweat covers Ana’s body, but she can’t shower before he comes, because she doesn’t want to wake him up earlier than he would by himself or make him cry when he sees the bed empty. He needs her hugs and kisses to start his day. Ana knows this too will pass.
Ethan crosses the little hallway in a gallop, then jumps up and throws himself on Ana. …
Are déjà-vus life re-lived, or are our universes mere refractions of our powerful brains?
I started having déjà-vus again, and the idea that there’s once more a clearer path in my universe my brain can see and travel on made me think of a connection. Is there one? I know that when my worries muddled my thoughts, there were no déjà-vus. I’ve always wondered if we create them, or if they’re a trick, an illusion, or maybe certain incidents that have indeed come to existence before having happened. To me, they’re like ghosts that I’d like to catch, but not…
When the only flowers you see are those of weeds, you marvel at their beauty and let them grow, wild and giant. You let them take over your garden until they suffocate each other. I did that. I saw flowers, rugged, that didn’t need much tending. And because they were mine, I let them take over. I let them intertwine up my legs, pin me down, secure my core into their neediness, wrap up my brain into a false sense of warmth and coziness.
Winters shook me up; the freeze sent shards of awareness that stang into my perception and…
The squirrel ran for the acorn, catching it and dropping it again, racing to the end of the world for that morsel of food, hope to survive the winter.
I felt like that squirrel in Ice Age so many times, running arms open to catch an illusion or another to the brink of my world and back again. I kept going, starting another race, getting to another spot that felt the same, falling into an even deeper abyss, climbing up only to begin another chase.
Each time more depleted, more lost, frozen in my loneliness.
The last time I picked…
Glancing at my number of followers, as I normally do, who doesn’t? 300 something have vanished within minutes. A glitch I thought, Medium will sort, for how can a few hundred hard-earned followers disappear at a snap of fingers?
This morning I remembered to peek again, but my followers are still gone for good, or for the night, I laugh that it bothers me, I find it hilarious, and spelled with two “l”, as I was taught in Romania, but Grammarly transforms it instantly, magically,
no wonder I got third place at the “Olympics” in high school, with the plethora…
😊 Thank you for making me smile. The sunrise is fantastic. I have to get the bell from now on; the bears seem to think they live here too. Take that for hilarious: not giving up my walks but wearing a bear bell.
I chose not to raid the streets this morning,
right after I woke, when others are still fast asleep,
as I do every day, rain, fog, or shine,
following the birds, undulating with the poppies,
leaning into the soothing magic of guided meditations.
I chose to sit on my giant bed, on top of my pillows,
breathing in, breathing out, inhaling this landscape
my blessed universe found on top of the world.
Not questioning why not blaming myself for procrastination
I’m leaving behind the yoga flow I scheduled to follow,
finding words on the keyboard instead, tapping
tiny smiles of satisfaction, for this…
She’d join me in bed at night, my friend Insomnia
cuddle and hug me tightly in suffocating embraces.
I’d fight off those gripping clutches, but she won every time.
It’s only when I stopped resisting that we both relaxed in snuggles,
only when I seized back, that we became friends.
I accepted my extra free time as a present from the gods.
Insomnia was there to guide me through writing, reading,
watching educational shows and learning new languages.
I strived to be the best student, not to waste my gift.
I moved away last year, and now my friend no…