my mental-brown-bag

I really wanted to share something with you tonight. I wanted to reach inside, pull out a tiny bit of me, blow off the dust, and bring it into the light for you.

but I couldn’t.

because I couldn’t find it.

as I drove home from Craig’s tonight, I scanned through the observations that I’d packed away in my mental-brown-bag like the mangoes ripening on top of my refrigerator. (because sometimes you see/hear something and, right away, you know it’s there somewhere in that moment, but you need a little time to mull it over, to swish it around in your glass and think about it’s shade and smell.)

I thought about the brand new headlight in my car and how happy I was to be able to see all that I’d been missing on the left side of the lane.

I thought about last night’s episode of House and holding onto hope instead of taking a risk and Amy’s thoughts on meanings and goals.

I thought about the time I compared myself to my dad’s work boots, the ones that have the best of intentions but can’t help but leave little messes every now and then.

I thought about sweet sweet Claudia and how I hope someday we can meet and I can hug her and she can make rancho gordo beans for me.

I thought about “It’s time to start living the life you’ve imagined” (henry james) & “The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become” (charles du bois).

and after all that sifting-through and shuffling-around, I still couldn’t quite latch onto it. so I’ve brought to you a muddled, blurry heap of my parts instead of a shiny, sparkling facet. and I hope you’ll accept that tonight. for what it’s worth.