When I’m tired, I reach for sugar to supply the zip I need
When I’m bored, a plate of nachos will suffice, a little spice
Will pick me up
When I’m depressed, you might have guessed, chocolate is the thing that frees the happys in my brain
When I’m sick with regret, well, I might as well eat the rest of it, the chocolate cake, I mean
When I’m kickin’ back, a bag or two of chips will do the trick to keep me casual and cool
And when I’m in a party mood, I need a table full of food, other partygoers optional
There’s a food for every feeling, there’s a meaning for every morsel
There’s a taste for every tension and a gulp for every grief
Since I always have my appetite to make everything in my world alright
Who needs a shrink or friends and family?
Just sit me by the fridge and I will eat my way through life
And I’ll be fat
And happy
Maybe…
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we’re busy and reflection takes time and stillness, or because we’re afraid of what we might find, we will pay for it in our relationships. Too often, I’ve taken the train to destination unknown, all the while failing to note the scenery and I’ve ended up in Sorryville. It’s about being in the moment and it’s a matter of self-care. It’s something I struggle with on a daily basis.
The little girl I looked after today wasn’t two yet. I’d forgotten how utterly spontaneous they are at that age. On our way to the park, like a clumsy butterfly she landed here and there. She had to peek through the neighbor’s fence in search of doggies. She had to lie flat on her back in the grass, in the gravel, in the middle of the road. She tried, anyway. She caressed rocks and inspected pine cones and, at one point, sat down in the dark dirt and proceeded to cover herself with it. The idea that we were on our way to the park, the place designated for child’s play, meant nothing whatsoever to her. The world is her park.
birthday parties are records of our continuing existence and our age, among other things, defines us. In a culture which prizes the beauty and strength of youth, many of us try to keep the number of our days a secret through hair dye, wrinkle creams, trendy clothing, fitness, plastic surgery, and furious denial. If you don’t want others to know your age, I suggest you hide your photo albums when your friends come over or you’ll be providing them with before and after photos. From time cards at work to the renewal of our driver’s licenses, we’re reminded that time is passing.
