Feet, Keep Moving

Pick it up, clomp. Pick it up, clomp. That is the sound of you putting one foot in front of the other in spite of your brain which is threatening to sue if you don't sit your ass down and feed it a pack of Ring Dings. I'm not sure if that's the name, the confection is a miniature cake covered in raspberry puree, rolled in coconut with a creamy filling. The material in the filling is also used as flame retardant in jammies. Now, forget the cake, get on with making yourself move in some direction, take a breath and move. I don't care if you are cleaning out a drawer, watching traffic out a window, or writing in blood with a toothpick. Here is a secret: I once had a crush on Fred Rogers, but it was Something and it was mine. I waited for that man.

It kept me going in a small way, this one thing, and lifted me. Doesn't he ever use a lint brush? His hair is always combed, his sneakers right where he left them. Fred defined a sort of ordered universe full of deliberate blandness and not too many pointy objects. Oh sure, he had a script and a stage crew that defuzzed his sweaters and made sure his footwear was right where he wanted it. That part was reality, I wanted the calming fantasy of things in their proper places.

Yet, I couldn't have lived with him; I would have woken up one night next to Fred in Bed, and next be out in the kitchen atop the granite counter pouring hollaback words on the floor in Hershey's syrup, I'm that kind of gal. Order eludes me, the only thing in a row over here are the eggs in the refrigerator, too much order and I pop. Watching Fred do it on television was calming and held up an example that I could aspire to; and even though he didn't know me, I felt that he was rooting for me.

What do you have, what do you look for? Which routine of the day has not become a rut or a crutch but is a goal, a challenge, a movement? Lift your head and look about, you probably are already doing it without realization, this moving forwards and back, to and fro, dilly dallying, shilly shallying, progressive lollygagging or tarry-no-furthering. We're talking small here, a charm, a rune, a wish, a feather, a green light. They add up. As long as you look for them, that is evolution, that is hope, that is the desire to be.

Deedle deedle dumpling, my dear son John. One shoe off. Sleep, gingham dog, sleep calico cat.