Reading this post on A River of Stones makes me pause. I fear I have mistaken the writing of small stones for the writing of poetry. I recognise myself as one of those people who "sees artistically, decorating my descriptions, turning everything into a simile". Beneath all that I glimpse the thought beneath it, the longing. Look at this pretty thing I did. Please admire me for it. Offering shiny trinkets to be liked and accepted. How hard it is to just see, to offer simply what is there. How hard it is not to change it into something “better”.
~
Here are some examples from today, where I have tried to stick to observation without decoration or interpretation:
my toddler follows me into the bathroom
I turn around
he throws up his arms
I pick him up
his arms circle my neck
his head rests on my shoulder
I kiss his smooth cheek
inhaling the unexpected scent of Vicks
~
the chemist with a fluffy head of hair
whistles “I believe in angels”
as he hands me Jake’s medicine
1 comment:
*Big smile*
How honest you are, Tammy - it's refreshing. I can totally relate to this observation - I think I too suffer from the same need to please...
I like the simplicity in these words. Moments so ordinary they are easily missed, yet when we bother to look at them we see that they are full to the brim with love. That's what I see, anyway. :) x
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