Thick, swirling fog is caught in the bare branches of the trees. It sits on the slated angle of the roof. Creeps against the window panes. It is close and quiet. A duvet of the palest, whitest, gentlest gray. It conceals the Bridge and the mermaid Bay. Keeps them secret, hidden. But I know they are there. The hilly streets. The tall buildings. The colored houses. The wild Pacific beyond. And then palm trees and pineapple rain and more Pacific. And then and then and then…
It’s all there. I can’t see it, but it is out there. Big. Vast. More than I think I can imagine.
And I am here. Where it is small.
Where there is a faint alarm waking him up in the room next door. Will he wake up? Will he turn it off?
Where her door squeaks open as she makes her stumbly, early morning way to the bathroom. We should oil that door.
I am here, quiet in my bed, looking out through those windows at that soft, heavy fog slow-dancing over the vastness that is the world out there.
I am here, in my world where there is a boy who says everyone, everything is “annoying”. I don’t know what that means anymore. I yelled so loud yesterday my throat hurt for hours.
In my world the skin around my eyes is more wrinkled than ever. “I look old,” I say. “Not old. Just tired,” she replies. I burn my finger while cooking the stew.
In my world he wraps his little arms tight around my neck. “Love you too,” he murmurs against my cheek. His brother yells good night from behind the bedroom door.
In my world I go to a funeral. How is it that you go to bed one night with your life one way, and when you go to bed the next night it is completely, nonsensically, unbelievably different? We say psalms and share memories and I am thankful for religion and ritual.
In my world I have a car accident. It’s not my fault. I am wearing a seat belt, and have both hands on the wheel. I am not speeding. “Fools Gold” by Fitz and the Tantrums is on the radio. I love that song. I sing. I see the car about to hit me. I swerve, but not enough. I am fine, but my car is not. Sometimes even if I do everything I’m supposed to, there is still impact. In my world the jasmines have started to bloom. They are beautiful and fragrant and full of spring. They’re my favorite and I stop to take a photo. I smile and I’m warm in the January sun, and I forget that they’re early. Too early.
In my world I think about the friends who have silently floated away and I wonder if they’ll ever come back. I miss them. And I drink tea and watch TV with the ones who are always here.
In my world my sister makes me laugh every day. My son tells his sister she’s an idiot. I look at them, exasperated, and wish my brother lived closer than 10,000 miles away.
In my world I drop my husband at the airport. “Thank you for taking me,” he says. “Will you be okay without me?” If I tell him no, will he stay? I selfishly wonder for the shortest, most amazing second. “Yep!” I smile. Kiss him. He’s gone a lot.
In my world I visit a friend in hospital. I’m nervous and worried about her. The machines beep and swish and her hair is frizzy around her face. Her eyes light up when I walk in the room. They twinkle like always. I touch her bruised hand and I’m not nervous anymore.
I look at the swirling, gray fog and notice what I can’t see. It dissolves slowly under the yellow sun, and now there is a narrow slice of the brightest, clearest blue.
In my world.
This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, inspired by the prompt, “The first thing you must do to take over the world is…” Hosted by Kristi from Finding Ninee, and co-hosted by Michelle of Crumpets and Bollocks and Anna of Fitfunner.
Love love love you Nix. I was there, in your world while reading it. I’m here, now. Your words. They bring me and make me feel. Here.
(the car accident must have been scary as hell, and oil the door, and well all of it)
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In my world there are amazing friends that I’ve not met in real life but that I know are here, really really here. Love you, Kristi ❤
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I am here, quiet in my bed, reading this before I get up and start the day in my world. But first I spend a few minutes with you, letting your amazing words wash over me. It’s the perfect way to start my day. Thank you Nicki!
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Thank you for letting me in to start your day with you, Dana. Thank you for being with me, in my writing world and beyond. Have a wonderful weekend out! xx
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Wonderful imagery! I can feel your world and can almost participate in it. It’s a deep and meaningful place, although I can’t decide whether it is joyful, sad or both…..
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Thank you Anna! Yes, I can’t decide either… so much gratitude to you for hosting FTSF.
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In many, many ways your world is like my world. Fog descended late last night and it’s still blanketing about. My car crash was a slider on ice – we only exchanged paint colour thankfully. The funeral was for a relative far too young and a dear pal is gravely ill. But like your lovely sliver of blue there is hope. We’re blessed. We’re loved by family and friends and even by some folks we’ve never met. As for your throat that’s raw from screaming? Lemon, honey and hot water. Worked wonders for me back in the day.
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Thank you Kelly for sharing that your world feels similar to mine. It’s comforting. Thank you for “getting” me. It feels lovely, warm. Love to you.
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In my world, the brunette South African with the pixie hair cut writes beautiful moving pieces that leave me in awe of her talent. Seriously you’re killing it.
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Thank you, Steph, for everything. Always. Your love and friendship fill my world.
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I love participating in FTSF because of gems like this! So different than what I wrote; so absorbing to read. My husband travels a lot, too. I was right there with you in the car. Yep.
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Thank you Katy.
I’ve had enough car accidents to know that I usually don’t remember the details. And certainly not with clarity. But every single second of this one is crystal clear. I’m not sure why…
Loved FTSF’ing with you this week 🙂
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Thank you for sharing your world. Our worlds aren’t always easy but they’re ours – so ‘home’. This felt all zen like, like I had a massage too. It just didn’t last long enough.
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Yes… ours. And we matter in our worlds. Thank you for this wonderful comment, Kenya.
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This is really lovely. I enjoyed reading more about what your world is like. And I think I need to check out these “Finish the Sentence Friday” prompts. They sound really intriguing.
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Thank you dear Christine! So happy you’ve joined FTSF – it’s wonderful, both the writing and the community.
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Love it Nicki.
First word I thought of when I read it, #hineni. The word I chant to block everything else out as I practice yoga, meditate and attempt to go to sleep.
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That is the most wonderful word, Mara. I had forgotten it. Thank you for bringing it back to me here.
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wishing days filled with sunflowers and sweet smells to make up for days like that. loved the piece, love you.
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Sunflowers… you remember :). Thank you Cynth. Love you ❤
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I love this so much it’s hard to comment.
You get that, right?
❤
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Wow, yes I do get it. Just kinda overwhelmed it’s my words you feel that way about…! Thank you Mardra.
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Holy holy HOLY writing, woman. Poetic, gorgeous and evocative. Thank you for sharing these beautiful words. (And thanks for introducing me to FTSF! Going to check it out!)
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Denise! Thank you thank you thank you!
Did you join FTSF? Would love to write there with you. Love to you, beautiful friend.
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