The usual opening for this blog lately: I feel acutely. I may be an empath.
The 6 YO girl wound up her swing to enjoy the thrill of spinning, spinning. As the ropes turned back on themselves, a lock of her hair got caught up and twisted until her hair was pulled out at the roots leaving a nickle-sized bald spot. Her little feet didn’t reach the ground and Mom-a-Tron was inside washing dishes. I keep thinking about how powerless she must have felt as each precious strand was plucked from her scalp. The following day while she attended school and I tended to the chickens, I saw that silken lock. As I untangled the hair, I couldn’t help but think how it had been a part of her and being maaaad at that stupid, ridiculous swing! Children should not be allowed to swing. Later that day, the parent teacher conference about my adorable, wonderful, perfect in every way 6 YO girl left me on Cloud 9.
Citris – Lazy blogger Alex describes the scent as arousing
Did I mention all this bloomed IN MY YARD? Oh, and the wind is like a zillion miles per hour so the pollens are EVERYWHERE. It tickles your nose, leaves your head fuzzy, and makes your breathing irregular. I described the feeling to my friend Connie, who relayed it to a client. “Oh, yes,” the lady said. “I know exactly what you mean. Crired.” Crired = Tired + Cried. That’s exactly how it feels.
Yes, once the emotion goes away and the allergies hit, the mind goes foggy. The tank is empty. Only jejune reflections remain.
(Yes, I wrote this whole entry in service of the word “jejune”.)