To Really Walk Away.


Epiphanies have been coming, fast and furiously, lately. Maybe it’s that Neowise comet — a rush of cosmic energy. Or, the newly introduced blend of acetyl-carnitine and citicoline. Whatever.

But, here’s another. Lean in.

I rarely walk away.

Having suction cups for intentions, tenacity for a middle name, and persistence as a driver, I’m pretty much hopeless when it comes to letting go.

To my mind – and, apparently, constitution – holding on is a soul purpose. Holding on equates with staying alive.

Perhaps it’s an ingrained fear of the water. I can remember in childhood feeling frantic the first time the sandy lake bottom escaped my feet. Large motor coordination a profound deficit, not knowing how to float let alone swim, and the pain in my arched neck as suffocating droplets teased my nose and gasping, gaping mouth…..then, somebody bigger, stronger, reaching out with a large, hairy arm or a smooth, slimy preserver……”Hold on! Just hold on! I’ve got ya!”

Water is life. Without it, we die. Except for when it finds its way into the places where we can’t let it go.

So, I’m a tenacious little bitch. I’m the barnacle on your back, the bug in your ear, the text(s) on your phone, the car in your driveway.

I’m there, just one more time, with just one more breath, one more pocket of air.

Take it, while you can. It’s you, or me.

Wear a mask.

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© 7/24/2020  Ruth Ann Scanzillo.   All rights those of the author, your worst nightmare. Please respect original material; no copying, in whole or part, including translation, permitted without permission. Thanks, again.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

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