Loose Endings

I was in the kitchen the other day, stewing this or that on the stove. The door to the deck was cracked open letting the breeze slide along the floor. All of a sudden a tiny, energetic bird flapped furiously, wings pushing with all their might to open the door. Panicking I waved my arms wildly yelling, "NO BIRD! NO BIRD! NO BIRD!" As if the bird spoke English. Or, understood it. Or, well whatever. And suddenly the tiny, non-threatening bird stopped flapping and drifted to the deck without sound, tilting it's furry head at me, as if to say, "Lady, you're nuts." And in reply, I shrugged, muttering, "I know tiny bird. I know."

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Being in love is a bit like wearing your most vulnerable organs on the outside. Your liver is displayed for all to see, "Oh a bit gray is it?" the others will mutter, shaking their head in disbelief. The lungs shuttering and sputtering. The gall bladder wondering what the hell is going on.
The heart is pulsating on the shoulder, quivering, quaking, wishing to be put back in. But no. It is unfolded, and open. And like a map, or those complicated toys with the twist ties holding them in place, you can never quite put it back in the original order. And so it is with the heart. Once taken out. Once given. Once displayed, it will never return to its original state. It will always be jagged, ragged, misshapen, snagged here and there with shards of broken promises and lost love.

But in the end? Better to take it out, shake it out, hold it under the sun and say, "Here it is, this thing which makes me breathe and live and hope and dream and dance....here it is...I'm giving it to you freely, openly, and I'm trusting you to keep it whole and safe.

And even when it's dropped. Even when it breaks. Still it beats.

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I just needed a few things. Ingredients for deviled eggs. An energy drink for cute boyfriend. And a few odds and ends. So I'd made a list. Because sleep...well sleep hasn't been a friend lately. It's actually eluded me like a rabbit in those damnable holes. I'm late I'm late...and all that. So I had a list. Climbing out of the car I clutched it, grabbing the purse, locking the doors. And on my way I went. When suddenly a huge, furious, foul gust of wind shot up from a really pissed off Mother Nature and snatched it out of my hand. And so, with others looking on I watched my jotted list samba, cha-cha, and waltz its way into the great beyond.

Shit.

Eggs. Mustard. Mayonaise.

My brain faltered. Failed. Ran away.

Tomorrow is another day.