I’m feeling down, like Eeyore with his blue body and that nail-tacked tail that always seems to fall off. I can feel it behind my eyes, this weight—heavy. Not quite tired, not quite a zombie, just stuck somewhere in between. A friend of mine heard my symptoms and jokingly diagnosed me as Schrödinger’s Cat: Am I in the box or am I out?
There’s this long pause in me toward life. It’s like I’ve hit a fork in the road, but the signs are blank—no hints, no direction.
I tend to write in metaphor rather than in concrete facts, which reminds me… when will we hear back about the oil-slicked driveway compensation?
Right now, flames dance a beanbag toss away in the fireplace. The firescreen has this tree silhouette that contrasts against the bright orange glow of it, and the crackling of the wood fills the air. There’s something about fire—it has this way of making me feel grounded, like a massage for my stresses. Maybe it’s the history of fires in my life, sitting by them carefree and relaxed, that gives this one the same soothing effect.
The fire is in its prime right now—at that point where it’s consuming the wood rapidly, crackling louder, popping more. So far, the screen is holding back any stray embers, but the power of fire is incredible, isn’t it?
Uh oh, I’ve got that faraway look in my eyes—the quintessential “soaking in the fire” gaze. If I didn’t have to finish writing this, I might just snuggle up with a pillow and fall asleep right here.
I hope your Friday was a good one. Take care. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 