mad woman's lib

sometimes, i am so obtuse. or as my friend, mylinh, says, 'oblong.'

i am so oblong.

i've let my imagination get the best of me ... racing forward as if life were one giant mad-lib - hurriedly filling in the blanks all by myself, when they might best be left open for awhile ... or given patiently, graciously to another to fulfill.

i, in all my oblongitude, pretend i have all the answers when i don't, really. really, i don't.

as hard as i try, i can't conjure them, can't tidy them up - they will arrive when they wish and they will be fragile and messy and they will be misspelled. they will be perfect in their imperfection.

and i will welcome them when they come ... when they tiptoe in behind me, slide in close and quiet as i sleep, crash into me full stop ... whether by text or by tongue.

the discovery, after all, the 'not knowing'... that is the real adventure - and the remedy itself ... to heal us all and make us wise before the fall.

someone bless us fools.