Droplets

I rise from the tub weary. Clean and weary of the loop-loop of thoughts that snowball endlessly down a hill, obliterating everything else. My mind is no longer my own and rolls at a crazy speed, toward certain splintering, crashing wall. I choose a jar of cocoa butter encased in an expensive brown disc. I choose cocoa butter because of the keen, nearly physical sensation of memory it stuns me with. It is what I wore back then. Pearlescent cocoa butter in a vat-sized plastic drugstore jar. Back when I rose from the tub, excited and barely taking time to towel off before moving into the open room of all possibility. What would I do that day? I didn’t know, but somewhere along the way something delicious would happen – it could be the whisper of wind lifting my hair, the shiver of a boy brushing past in the hallway, or even a sudden wicked thought.

That was the world then.

It’s no wonder I’m hiding within, breathing bubbles beneath the surface of nostalgia right now.

New doings

This is new for me. I'm ruminating over what and whether to post here. In the meantime, I've been over at this pad for a number of years now, and it may be time for a fresh start.

This is a year of big changes.