I have a desire to read. Despite having three kids, I’m the slowest reader in the house. I fancy myself a writer but it’s easy to be humbled.
With gift cards and hard-earned cash in hand, the children asked to go to Barnes and Noble. My daughter called a friend who convinced her father to meet us there. It’s pleasant having Misty out of college for a little longer so she could enjoy the outing as well.
The Christmas season provided an earlier start so we left in daylight but heavy afternoon traffic. I dropped Misty at Target and circled back in the same complex to B&N. The kids pushed ahead while I got Ritter out of the back of the van. I talked with the father of my daughter’s friend for a few minutes in the parking lot before joining the teenagers inside.
Obama’s image in the window, discounted Christmas gifts by the checkout, and as usual, the classics were on display up front. I found the girls in the YA section and the boys straddling sci-fi and comics. They independently shared their titles of interest while I attempted to filter out the excess of my environment.
Humans can’t help but compare; I’m no exception. I walked into the fiction aisle and picked up a book that appeared interesting. Thumbing past two-hundred some pages, with no prior knowledge of plot or character, I plunged into an immersive description.
The man is driving a child with mysterious medical issues to an old hunting camp he visited as a child but worries may no longer exist. Suddenly present in the car, the landscape scrolls past, I am privy to his thoughts, and share his anxiety. It was several pages before the trance was broken by a woman admiring Ritter who was lying at my feet.
I shelved that book and selected another by title recognition. A much older text but with revamped cover, it had been made into a TV series that I started to watch but never finished. How can the anthropomorphic description of an inanimate object be so eloquent? I felt insignificant. It’s good to be humbled but this was a mouthful of pie.
I want to read for pleasure but it also turns into a study of form, structure, and flow. I guess I also write slowly? All a comparison, we exist on a spectrum, it’s not binary. Sitting here listening to music as I write, it’s just one more bluesy rock song resting on the time honored (or worn out) I – IV – V – VII – I chord progression.
2020 has been a difficult and humbling year for many. Personal struggles and tragedy abound, amplified by sensationalized news. Where is your focus? Some thoughts arrive uninvited. Will you dwell on them? What’s important?
Enter 2021 with clear goals in mind but be willing to flex and roll with changes. Know what your non-negotiables are and hold fast to your values. Learn and never stop growing.
Thank you so much for supporting me during the inaugural year of Mental Grenade! I look forward to the new year, new people, new stories, new opportunities, and new problems to solve. May God bless you all richly.
Over.
“For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.” -Is 43:19
OUT.
Art Murphy Junior
January 2, 2021 01:38And when my 4 were here during all those Christmas s past , or with you at aguadulce, it was noisyyyyyyyyyyyy caos…………..bonfires on Easter, I tried to burn down aguadce…………….well once Mikey was standing by me and before was a tad sketchy & all I had was a worthless garden hose, good thing it wasn’t windy that day
………or the day Chris told Garret to eat a worm and filmed it, all the cousins screaming down Great Grandmas driveway on the sleds, we had a lot of noisy fun days…… see you on the flip flop in 2021
Peace out
Art Murphy Junior
January 2, 2021 01:36Thank you Drew.