The Scintilla Project ~ Day 1

Who am I?

I am full on fried chicken and rice fried with aubergine and cherry tomatoes.

I am sitting on a hip that’s out of balance.

I am alone in the house, except for Yoshi the cat, because my son is at his Dad’s tonight.

I am writing by hand again, sending letters to friends and postcards to strangers.

I am finding out what friendship really means. 

I’m discovering more than I’d like to, about what isn’t enough.  But it means I’m learning to recognise what is.

I am learning to play the ukulele.

I’ve just learned that I’ve been spelling ukulele wrong.

I am starting yet another project. (It's ok, this one is only for a fortnight).

I am being frightened by a small child I used to know.

I am trying to be kind.

I am trying to live with the following suggestions:

-         stay open, no matter what

-         always cultivate a joyful mind

-         no blame, be kind, love everything

(I think they all sort of mean the same thing)

I like stripey socks.

I am 40, but I still find farts amusing.

I am meeting several of my online friends next week, our first time seeing each other face-to-face.

I have stretch marks around my belly button.  They are in the shape of a flame.  But I refuse to call them tiger stripes.  I don’t need anyone to look at them and see tiger stripes.  I know what they are.  My skin's memory of the weight of my son.  My life's greatest privilege.  They are what they are.  Even when I wiggle my wobbly belly and they look like a flickering fire.

My son is my biggest supporter.  And he calls marshmallows smarshmallows.  His Dad taught him that.

I may not jump out of airplanes but I take risks, all the time.  I may seem quiet, but my heart roars.  (Yeah, writing that made me cringe a little.  But I'm also trying to make friends with the things that make me uncomfortable.)

Come roar with me.

~

This post was written as part of The Scintilla Project, which I first read about in Elizabeth's Marie's fantabulously beautiful post.