I wish I could say that I usually have [nearly] perfect experiences. It would be nice to have at least a few things actually go according to plan, giving me a sense of completion and fulfillment when they are done. Not to broadcast them, but just to file away, to look back upon, to feel secure knowing that I can make it in this world. Truth is, nothing seems to ever, ever get near [nearly] perfect. Everything always tends to be a bit on the... gloppy side. But, there might perhaps be a few others who would say that too. It seems that some people tend to consider themselves unique, as if they are the only ones with [extraordinary] good taste and amazing experiences. And, ironically enough, that's who I think I am as well. If that's who you are too, then, we should form a club or something.
I have an [extraordinary] habit. I dictate my life in my head, very, very often, using that generic movie-voice. It's not that I'm so marvelous and interesting and I have to keep things straight and talk to myself. No, I've found that it must be because I am trying to hype up my everyday simple, common, nondescript experiences. That day Holly woke up, looked at her cell phone to discern the time, then fell out of bed and made a face at her mirror on her way out the door.
The other day I was getting some shopping done, winding my way through the store and trying to remember everything I had to buy. I was having a lovely time in the produce section, chatting with the cucumbers and swapping jokes with the cabbages. I remembered we needed oranges, so I grabbed a bag and began to fill it. I had just picked up the third orange when suddenly the whole entire enormous pyramid began to slide off, like a giant flow of orange lava, plummeting to the floor below. I watched, in slow motion, as orange after orange fell and rolled across the floor-- past the lettuce, past the tomatoes, and past the Odwalla refrigerator. If someone had been filming, I'm sure it would have made a great addition to some music video. The entire mound was depleted in seconds, as dozens and dozens of oranges shot every which way, like crazy bullets; and there I stood in the midst of it all, oranges rolling everywhere, floundering around my feet. People smiled and laughed humorously, and stared politely, and to me [extraordinarily] rudely. I just smiled back, as if, I meant to do that. And I heard the narrator's voice droll through my head, And this is the last day Holly shopped at that store. Perhaps an orange had rolled all the way to the front and sneezed or something, for a split-second later I heard someone announce loudly, "Extra help needed in produce. In the produce section, extra clean up help, please."
I try to just shrug my shoulders when things like that happen. Maybe God has a surprise and maybe its tomorrow that's going to be great. Or maybe... I'm missing the whole big picture. Maybe I wasn't made for tomorrow. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps I was made just for today. I was made for this very minute, typing this out while eating my fruit salad. I was created for every little detail that has burst into my life, whether the detail is nearly perfect and tipsy with munificence or soaked in a mud puddle and run over with the lawn mower. I was made for such a time as this. For every moment. Every heartache I dealt with last week. Every laugh I laughed today. You too. You were made for the very thing you wish you could be avoiding today. And the very thing you loved yesterday. I don't know about tomorrow, or the next week or the next week after that, but I know that everything has it's place and meaning in our lives. Every orange too. For I doubt if I hadn't re-arranged the produce section, I would be writing this at all.
I have an [extraordinary] habit. I dictate my life in my head, very, very often, using that generic movie-voice. It's not that I'm so marvelous and interesting and I have to keep things straight and talk to myself. No, I've found that it must be because I am trying to hype up my everyday simple, common, nondescript experiences. That day Holly woke up, looked at her cell phone to discern the time, then fell out of bed and made a face at her mirror on her way out the door.
The other day I was getting some shopping done, winding my way through the store and trying to remember everything I had to buy. I was having a lovely time in the produce section, chatting with the cucumbers and swapping jokes with the cabbages. I remembered we needed oranges, so I grabbed a bag and began to fill it. I had just picked up the third orange when suddenly the whole entire enormous pyramid began to slide off, like a giant flow of orange lava, plummeting to the floor below. I watched, in slow motion, as orange after orange fell and rolled across the floor-- past the lettuce, past the tomatoes, and past the Odwalla refrigerator. If someone had been filming, I'm sure it would have made a great addition to some music video. The entire mound was depleted in seconds, as dozens and dozens of oranges shot every which way, like crazy bullets; and there I stood in the midst of it all, oranges rolling everywhere, floundering around my feet. People smiled and laughed humorously, and stared politely, and to me [extraordinarily] rudely. I just smiled back, as if, I meant to do that. And I heard the narrator's voice droll through my head, And this is the last day Holly shopped at that store. Perhaps an orange had rolled all the way to the front and sneezed or something, for a split-second later I heard someone announce loudly, "Extra help needed in produce. In the produce section, extra clean up help, please."
I try to just shrug my shoulders when things like that happen. Maybe God has a surprise and maybe its tomorrow that's going to be great. Or maybe... I'm missing the whole big picture. Maybe I wasn't made for tomorrow. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps I was made just for today. I was made for this very minute, typing this out while eating my fruit salad. I was created for every little detail that has burst into my life, whether the detail is nearly perfect and tipsy with munificence or soaked in a mud puddle and run over with the lawn mower. I was made for such a time as this. For every moment. Every heartache I dealt with last week. Every laugh I laughed today. You too. You were made for the very thing you wish you could be avoiding today. And the very thing you loved yesterday. I don't know about tomorrow, or the next week or the next week after that, but I know that everything has it's place and meaning in our lives. Every orange too. For I doubt if I hadn't re-arranged the produce section, I would be writing this at all.
2 comments:
I would totally form an elite club with you.
what the!! you never told me that! when was that...you silly...lol
love you! :)
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