Wild Things

 

Hollow.  It’s how I feel as I begin my walk.  I decide that it isn’t a bad feeling.  It means that I can be filled.  I leave the emptiness alone and note that my legs seem to be at odds with my torso.   My body struggles to find a rhythm.  I decide to concentrate on something else.    I note the rhythm of my breathing.  My legs have almost caught up.  Feet still complain but in the rhythm there is comfort.
 

Words slip in and out, through and around.  I don’t hang on to any of them.  I reach my midway point and smoothly u-turn.    I note the tall, magenta-colored flowers.  Their graceful spikes puncture the landscape.  Then, there on the trail, I spot the wild thing.  It is a small wild rabbit.  I slow to avoid frightening it.   She lets me get within 8 feet before she bounds off in the bushes.  I’ve often walked this trail but have yet to find a bunny sitting out in the open waiting for me.

I ponder the bunny, what to write, what the day will bring.  Deep in thought, I almost don’t notice it at first but there ahead of me on the trail is another rabbit about 200 feet from the first.  What are the odds?  Two in one day?  She watches me approach and then she bounds off in the brush.  I wonder if my rabbits know each other.  Tonight, will they return to their warren and tell tales about me?

I start to get greedy.  Alright I’ve had two bunny sightings, why not a third?   There is magic in the number three  It’s the same number as the trinity, trifectas and triumvirates… The power of three draws me like a magnet.

Wishing for a third bunny is ambitious wishing.  Wasn’t I already granted two bunnies in one morning?  When is enough enough?

No more rabbits.  I return home after completing a 3-mile walk.  In the shower, I think about the wild things that crossed my path and I am grateful.  I feel a bit sad that I didn’t have a third sighting of a wild thing, then I look in the mirror.  I know that I look pretty domesticated but isn’t there something of a wild thing in me?  Maybe, I’m the missing third piece.

In my mind, I join my rabbit sisters in their warren and share in the tales we’ll tell of our days.  I am a wild thing too.

 

I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.

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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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