"Could you please stop stepping on me every time I stop"? A common phrase spoken by a majority of parents to their children in shopping centres while walking the aisles. Little toes & little hands that precariously adhere to their parent's vicinity.
Throughout our lives we often mimic this stance. Willfully attaching ourselves to people or places. Enjoying the dance. Struck by pitfalls. Musing over those defining moments. Believing this is who we are.
Did you figure out life? Did you grab it by the balls? Did you slide effortlessly into home plate after rounding all the corners? Do you have many stories left untold? Do you have someone who will remember & retell your stories? Did you love and allow yourself to be loved?
After the final curtain call of a life that was intended to be a minuet, but in reality more to the rhythm of a cha-cha. What is often thought of are the little fatuous spaces in time. A pointless tidbit shared that really holds no educational relevance, but in that space of time it was a treasured golden nugget.
I can't remember the most profound history lesson my dad would have told me about WWII or how to stitch a quilt square as my mother would have shown me. I do however, remember "the potato man" my dad would pretend to speak to through a crack in the basement door as I hid under the table. Or him hitching a ride on the back of a Coca Cola delivery truck one night and helping himself to some chilled bottles. My mother fishing with her best friend from across the street. And the list goes on....
The insignificant spaces are the cords that keep us connected and always close.
When I was pregnant my feet grew to 1/2 a size. I hope one day in a thought or conversation my daughter will say, "my mother's feet grew when she was pregnant".
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