No Pixels

11201855_10153140622680218_8870666193031036544_n

I hear the rain drops. outside. the air condition whine. inside. the ceiling fan glide. keys pushed down. the garbage truck off in the distance. i have a wall in front of me with taped up rosaries of love. artwork from my children. a wolf howling. a distant nephew’s scribbling, during lunchtime in his truck. to escape his now.

there is no escape only chatter. the discussions in your head don’t matter. as you miss the moment. forgetting the details. of their first steps. their first words. their first joke. now. i’m more into crumbs and shoes and socks left on the ground. details never to be remembered. the dust of life accumulating. left as detritus to change focus. stop. take a breath. refocus, back to the now.

the truck is getting closer. making its way through the cul-de-sacs. with its robotic arm pumping, making men’s muscles atrophy from lack of hard working. the rain falls solid, sowing the seeds of future seasons. more reasons to see, hear, feel in vivid detail. to scrape off the dust from our eyes. to realize that time is so precious. own it. if you can just listen. keep the moment. practice. hone it, as every thing starts to glisten. breathe deeply. listen.

Leave a Comment