Graceful Octopus

Unbelievably, I have done it again. It is never intentional, yet always predictable. The goal was to finish. The food cooked and waiting in pots under lids for the hour of hunger, just like my mother-in- law used to do it. The house spotless, swept floor, clean clothes, happy children grinning and hugging, enjoying one another. I had plans to sit under the tree in his hammock warming it up. Letting it sway in the wind, lost in a book. Lost in a story that would be deep and moving and fast-paced and unpredictable, but it's been 12 hours since I woke up, and I haven't gotten there yet. The sky has darkened and the temperature has dropped and I am ignoring the grumbling children and farting dog to write this piece of ...art.

I drank a big mug of coffee too,this late in the day. To falsely energize me into actually cleaning the mess and organizing to perfection, so that the next day, nothing will need to be done. Nothing. Just maintenance and I will be able to rest without a cloud of anything above my head. After fusing two guinea pig cages into one and washing the sheets and cooking a meal I've yet to clean up, I wonder if I'll be able to find a screwdriver to put together my new $9.99 bookshelf. This shelf will heal all of the disarray that exists in my life. I just know it. After all if everything has a place and everything is in its place, there will be room for my true self. I usually wrap it up and hold it all in, but once I make the space, my great big self is enormous and expands with dancing tentacles to every corner. I am an octopus...with grace.

As I peeled the potatoes hours ago, I thought I was almost there. Then, oops, I must have had my eyes open, but somehow I couldn't differentiate between potato and fingertip. Now even as I type this through my bandaid I feel the throbbing of my failure. I cannot make it look easy, even when it is easy. I cannot make it seem simple, though it must be simple. I will give up for another day, and start again where I left off. It will feel as if there is more undone and I am starting back three steps. I'll reread this and I will know that really, I've already peeled the potatoes on Wednesday, so I can cross that cumbersome task off my list. I will hug the kids and tell them I love them. Then I can cross that off too. Sleep will come eventually. I will be alone inside myself. My list forgotten. I will dream of the ocean.