Perched on this twin-size bed, wrapped in a handmade quilt stitched together with patches of red, white, and blue, a cozy haven that cradles me during my stay, I find myself gazing through a rain-speckled window, seeking words that seem to play hide and seek.
I’m treading a path of diminished responsibilities, a sentimentalist devoid of the usual sentimentality, extracting ideas as a magician pulls ears from a hat, only to conjure a hare, its fur long and untamed, demanding partitions of thought to gather its elusive essence.
Here I am, a wanderer without a map, an abandoned toy in the far recesses of a basement corner, withdrawn from sight, left alone with my thoughts. Is that your whisper I catch in the air?
Coming closer, the floor’s familiar creak reveals your presence. Please stay, let’s dwell in reminiscence, as the dwindling light of dusk is a fleeting luxury. Immerse ourselves until its glow slips away from the fringes of our perception.
It has been a carousel ride, one twirl too many, a cheat sheet offering no solutions. Shall we step forward, then?
Venturing into the uncharted territories downstream, where mysteries await. Let’s rendezvous where the skyline meets the earth’s embrace.
Affectionately, Jaclynn
Going On 40 