This morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed. But, the Firefly Creative Writing #morningcoffeesessions motivated me to get my a%$ out of bed, get dressed, and get writing. (Nope, didn’t brush my teeth. Yet.)
This came first:
on the edges of my mother’s words
a different version of her hangs on
and then…nothing. Nada. Niente.
I waited. Wrote: “I got nothin’.” in my journal…
Waited some more. And then…cake.
Cake
What is the reason for this morning’s gloom?
The sky is overcast – could that be it?
Could that be all it takes?
A shift in brightness in the swath of colour
on the daily dome I look up to?
Could be…could be.
Could be I’m ready for cake now but
it won’t be here until tomorrow?
Perhaps it’s knowing that fourteen
years ago my water broke and a
gruelling labour unleashed on my body?
Or that forty-two is what I’ll answer
when you ask me how old I am?
It’s a lie. I’m really only ten.
On the inside…
Part of me is in Lake Erie
on a raft enjoying a slow float,
worry buried in the cool sand like a body.
I want to hug my mother.
And the ferns!
The ferns are bursting!
Fronds flapping in the morning wind whoosh,
taking the heat like champions.
Medusa-blades startling green –
How can this plant not lift my hiding spirit?
My breath is coffee and chaotic dreams.
My tongue still holds onto yesterday.
Yes, cake.
Cake would be perfect right now.
And then…a list of how amazing yesterday was! I wrote down all the things I accomplished. I filled a page with proof that I can build a day by doing numerous things I love with the people I love. Yesterday was one of those pretty perfect days. I planted. I read. I wrote. I edited. I ate. I watched a rom-com. I mean, it was filled to its brim with joy.
I wonder…why can’t we carry over our joys from the previous day naturally? As in, why can’t my body remember how good it felt yesterday when it snaps awake in a new today? I consider how easily grief, anger, fear – the darks, if you will – carries over. It feels more natural to awake feeling gripped by a shadow than by a beam of light. Why is that? Perhaps that is the state of my natural waking tendencies? There’s a choice to be made, isn’t there? Lift off the bed in a shadow or in a beam of light?
Sometimes, the choice is easily made. I choose the shadow and flop through the day…letting time and action help me release its grip. I choose the beam of light and skip through the day, grateful for time and all the joyful things I can do.
But for me, there’s definitely a practice…a habit that wants to form around choosing the beam of light. I hope that it can be a natural tendency to see the light and choose it easily.
Now that I’ve been up for nearly two hours. Now that I’ve written and reflected…I choose the beam of light.
Big love. Be kind. Be safe.
VANESSA SHIELDS, writer 