Moods are like winds and some people are cyclones and some people are breezes and some people are just deathly still. The wind may cool your sweat-slick skin or the wind may blow your life away. Moods out of the south or north, both poles. Moods light and variable. Sometimes I see you and it calms the gale howling in my chest. Sometimes, deadly still, sails hanging limp, I drift until I cross your current and new life swells in me, a storm on my horizon. Never mind, though, the two of us and our stormy metaphors. Outside the trees whip and bend in the gusty rain that beats on us with its literal reality. Here there is no mood, only expressions of pressure. We all handle it differently. Some of us are crushed. Some of us blow and blow and blow.
Most of the time we enjoy family with cake and ice cream and the same old stories. We love to hear them again, some part of us, to reaffirm our identities and our connections to one another. Sitting on couches and chairs we talk and laugh and smile until we're exhausted of tying this new knot in the weave of our particular story. And though I always sit out on the edge of togetherness, that's just another part of it all, as much a part as any other. There can be no middle without edges, I suppose, and without the gravity of community there is no opportunity to break away. Motion is meaningless in the void.
I don't know. I don't know. Big words about small ideas. Must be something in the wind. Just a mood.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
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