Thirsty

I placed the little paper cup

Beneath the spout and chunks of frozen water tumbled out

Then moved my cup next door and water poured from the adjacent tap

I slurped the cool mixture

The ice bobbing against my lips

And swallowed the slick liquid

Marveling at how easily I accessed what my body needed

My mind jumped to Saturday

We lost the trail in the forest

After coming down the mountain

We were out of water

But I needed water more than I remember ever needing it before

It didn’t seem to matter that I’d eaten plenty

All that mattered was that food isn’t water

I trudged along behind my friend, getting more behind with every halting, uncoordinated step

My legs were concrete blocks

My arms were having trouble utilizing poles that previously were so helpful

We fumbled through the felled trees which made a random, crisscross pattern my fatigued, foggy mind could not decipher

I gingerly stepped here and there hoping rotting logs would hold my weight

Desiccated, prickly branches clawed at my bare legs leaving their grasp behind in bloody, jagged fingerprints

I wondered what it might be like to fall face first, just like those trees, into the tangled mash

I’m sure it would be warm and suck me in

And did my hiking partner have cell service

Could he summon help in this wooded, desolate place

When he looked behind to find his, now, feeble friend delirious and languishing

On the forest floor

Eyes sunken, parched tongue lolling from my mouth, drool absent

I awoke from my most pleasant dream of lying down to his most welcome words, “I’ve found the trail!”

A “Hallelujah” sputtered up and with it came a surge of energy

Once on the trail, I stopped to turn the empty water bladder out above my head and lamely tried to catch the last few drips

They missed my mouth and trickled giggling down my neck instead

Suffice to say I did survive my trial by way of want for water

Made it to the car to share a coke

And nothing’s ever tasted better

Edited in Prisma app with Dallas
Edited in Prisma app with Dallas

The feature pic entitled “Quenched” was created by me by combining photos from Pixabay, edited using Pixlr.  The footer pic is from Pixabay, edited using Prisma. Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to follow me or sign up to receive my posts via email. Listen to many of my post on Spotify. Follow me on Instagram. Take a peek at my Redbubble store Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. See samples of my products below each post. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time!

Random Schmandom

What will you do for someone else today?

We watched Evan Almighty the other day. Though I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, I have one issue. They used the acronym ARK for Acts of Random Kindness, or Random Acts of Kindness as, I believe, it was originally ordered. Humorist Danny Wallace published a book with this title. Being someone who is always searching for the right word, I think pairing “random” with “acts of kindness” is a mistake. Continue reading “Random Schmandom”

Hit the Suds, Kids!

I recently experienced the death of a loved one. My dishwasher bit the suds. I knew it was coming. It started to hesitate, buzzing and stalling. For awhile, I was able to coax it to continue on. Then, one sad day, there was no response. I was devastated. She was so disheswashing-machine-1772579_12802dependable, always willing to take on whatever messes I stacked in her. A real wash horse, that one. She was quiet. She kept to herself while she worked. She was even willing to store that food-encrusted stink until she had a full load. No complaints, no rank belching. I loved her. I was thankful for her everyday. I was thankful when I loaded her and thankful when I unloaded her. You’d think all the thankfulness I lavished on her would have had a life-giving effect. I know plenty of people who take their dishwashers for granted. They don’t give them a thought until they break down and then they pelt them with verbal abuse. I was good to my dishwasher. Why me?
Continue reading “Hit the Suds, Kids!”

Polly Does Dopey : A Chronological List of the Dopey Things I’ve Done that Amuse Me

  1. When I was 16, my youth group held a wet n’ wild event where I proceeded to get wildly wet. At the close of the evening, I climbed into the back seat of my friend’s dopeyrefreshment-438399_12802car, my shorts drenched, and I was immediately sitting in a puddle. I did have a semi-dry towel which I used as a screen to remove my Sham Wows. I wrapped the towel around my waist covering my near nakedness. We stopped at a light and my most supportive friend yelled, “Chinese Fire Drill”. Do I have to continue?
  2. Continue reading “Polly Does Dopey : A Chronological List of the Dopey Things I’ve Done that Amuse Me”

Bite My Muffin Top

I read an article the other day written by a personal trainer. I don’t have my own personal trainer ( I kinda feel like I’m talking about a pet) and I don’t believe I’ll ever have the need for one. Why did I read the article then? Because I’m obsessed with my weight and how I look, like countless others on the continent. I’ve read the diet books, the workout books, the anti-diet and anti-workout books. I’ve swallowed the latest exercisecrossfit-534615_12802infomercial’s hype and bought videos that make me feel foolish, look stupid, and want to stop. I purchased one plastic contraption where the only exercise I got out of it was kicking it to the curb on garbage day. I’ve done the dusty stationary bike, those monotonous aerobics, the funny breathing exercises,the tedious weight lifting routines and the lie down and trim down Pilates. (I’ll admit I enjoyed the lying down part.) I wanted to see if he had anything new to say, any wisdom to impart that would inspire and motivate me to take better care of my body. What was I thinking? He’s a personal trainer. It’s in his best interest to tell us that there is no mind game, no pill that eats up fat cells like Pac-Man, no food that will release the stores of chub we’ve been self-consciously hugging. The success of his business depends on the premise that extreme physical exercise supervised by a glowing Adonis who eats hamburgers wrapped in lettuce (a travesty) is our only hope of becoming the Jennifer Aniston we were meant to be.
Continue reading “Bite My Muffin Top”

The Aging Game

Wrinkles are life’s measurable outcome.

I would say my face started visibly aging when I turned 40. (My soul’s age is skipping in a groove somewhere in adolescence.) People were always telling me how young I looked. I’ll throw out a few examples:
Continue reading “The Aging Game”