I don’t want to grow up. It’s too stressful. I hate the headaches, the shoulders ache. It even makes the muscles in my legs stiffen up. Maybe that last is more a part of getting old. I think it’s my body’s way of telling me that I’m letting myself go stagnant when I don’t know what to do and use that as an excuse to do nothing at all. I have to buck the fuck up and pull out the strength to at least do the wrong things and keep trying until I start doing the right things. When I start standing on my own two feet again then my legs will rediscover the muscles hidden inside.
In the end it doesn’t matter what I want. I’m here and I have to deal with what’s in front of me. If I don’t, the same things, only in a different color, are just going to keep coming back, haunting me, taunting me, with so many lessons. I’m a teacher, aren’t I? That’s what teachers do, we learn, and I learn best hands on.
It’s ok to dream of carefree sunny summer days, right? There are days like that out there again waiting for me. I have to believe in that. I don’t think I’m only teasing myself when I dream my little dreams. I’m opening to the universe what I really want. In some round about whacky way I’m going to get it!
This is just a set back. Another chance to regroup, learn and forge forth upon some predestined, intended, curvy, dusty old path. I don’t mind so much my feet getting dirty, I’ll appreciate so much more when I can get to a place and once again gently clean my feet off. Heal the wounds.
As I dream of sitting in the glittering hot sun, amongst tall dry grass and large boulders, with huge oaks nearby to cast dappling shadows of coolness in the light breeze. I’m just close enough to the edge of a clean cool stream that my feet are submerged and my toes sift through the sand and stones. As my feet become cool, soft and regenerated, so do I.
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