what i do

by willeya

it is morning and we are late.  cute earrings make you look put together when you are not so i grab them.  cute shoes too.  the dresser with the earrings and closet with the shoes are walking straight legged with his feet on top of mine and two fall off’s apart.  getting in my car i see the IL license and the chalked impounding numbers on the back windshield, now fading from layers of dirt. i’m waiting for the dirt to make it clean.  on the way the GPS falls through the cup holder. again. picking it up i think that i really should stick it on the window once and for all.  again. almost there we hit the toll. .40 and i only have pennies. i text her that i’m late.

for the 23rd time this week i wonder what i do with my time, wanting more to show for the hours.  squealing tires, the turn to her street is here.  we are here.  45 minutes late, but we are here.

in a whole big house, our children who are cousins choose to play back-to-back.  in a world so wide, we choose the intimate details of our little lives to speak. so much water yet we choose coffee.  and so much time passes quickly.

the trip back is the same but not quite.  same plates. same chalk writing. same gps, same hole. less pennies. and she texts me she’s happy for tuesdays.

i laugh that the day’s half gone.  i could be so much further than i am, but then where would i be?

linking up with ….

{a word on my first “just write”.  this is harder than i thought – than it seems it would be. i did not “just write”.  i wrote a whole other post. i erased it.  i started this one.  backspaced 100 times. and took one hour for what was supposed to be ten minutes. i’ll let do better next time, i promise {myself} ]

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