Up and Out of Here
Day 01 - Introduce yourself
Day 02 - Your first love
Day 03 - Your parents
Day 04 - What you ate today
Day 05 - Your definition of love
Day 06 - Your day
Day 07 - Your best friend
Day 08 - A moment
Day 09 - Your beliefs
Day 10 - What you wore today
Day 11 - Your siblings
Day 12 - What’s in your bag
Day 13 - This week
Day 14 - What you wore today
Day 15 - Your dreams
Day 16 - Your first kiss
Day 17 - Your favorite memory
Day 18 - Your favorite birthday
Day 19 - Something you regret
Day 20 - This month
Day 21 - Another moment
Day 22 - Something that upsets you
Day 23 - Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 - Something that makes you cry
Day 25 - A first
Day 26 - Your fears
Day 27 - Your favorite place
Day 28 - Something that you miss
Day 29 - Your aspirations
Day 30 - One last moment
My day could start out with a rap at the door and you pulling me out to play.
You could drag me along the boardwalk, planks for our feet held up by balloons with soft ribbons. We could play hide-and-seek between the barrels lining the walk, swinging on ropes as thick as mermaid arms, dropping sea shells from pockets back into the water with a light plunk… plunk… plunk…
And then if the weather worsened, or the sky grew damp as the sea, and the sea as damp as the air, and the air as damp as the wet, and it was the sea all around us and underfoot and ahead-and-above, then we could swim and breathe sky through our gills.
We could float-hover-float along until we found a skipping-path and shuffle along and climb through it to a golden field of grains. There we could fly a kite, no!, a bird, a great big blue jay, and touch tree tops with fingertips, tip-tapping the tender leaves. Swoop down into infinite space with infinite galaxies and stars beyond stars.
Breathe, 3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-.
Up again, up around and land back on the boardwalk, and walk home, hand in hand, and go up the stairs and into bed.
It could start like that, be just like that.
I won't know until I go to sleep and wake up in the morning. I hope you come out and ask me to play.
I hope, I hope.
My real day will not be any of that.
Calls to be made for the family business, and employee contracts to write up for it. Adding golden wheat stocks with pochoir (fancy pants name for stenciling) to my The Little Prince broadside (fancy pants name for poster) for class. Writing to publishers and hoping, begging that they'll give me copyright permission to quote their YA texts in my final printing project this semester. Building bookcases and finally unpacking my books if I'm not too lazy about it. Talking and tweeting. Since it was a bad night for sleep, there should be a nap in there, too.
I like my first answer better.
Day 02 - Your first love
Day 03 - Your parents
Day 04 - What you ate today
Day 05 - Your definition of love
Day 06 - Your day
Day 07 - Your best friend
Day 08 - A moment
Day 09 - Your beliefs
Day 10 - What you wore today
Day 11 - Your siblings
Day 12 - What’s in your bag
Day 13 - This week
Day 14 - What you wore today
Day 15 - Your dreams
Day 16 - Your first kiss
Day 17 - Your favorite memory
Day 18 - Your favorite birthday
Day 19 - Something you regret
Day 20 - This month
Day 21 - Another moment
Day 22 - Something that upsets you
Day 23 - Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 - Something that makes you cry
Day 25 - A first
Day 26 - Your fears
Day 27 - Your favorite place
Day 28 - Something that you miss
Day 29 - Your aspirations
Day 30 - One last moment
My day could start out with a rap at the door and you pulling me out to play.
You could drag me along the boardwalk, planks for our feet held up by balloons with soft ribbons. We could play hide-and-seek between the barrels lining the walk, swinging on ropes as thick as mermaid arms, dropping sea shells from pockets back into the water with a light plunk… plunk… plunk…
And then if the weather worsened, or the sky grew damp as the sea, and the sea as damp as the air, and the air as damp as the wet, and it was the sea all around us and underfoot and ahead-and-above, then we could swim and breathe sky through our gills.
We could float-hover-float along until we found a skipping-path and shuffle along and climb through it to a golden field of grains. There we could fly a kite, no!, a bird, a great big blue jay, and touch tree tops with fingertips, tip-tapping the tender leaves. Swoop down into infinite space with infinite galaxies and stars beyond stars.
Breathe, 3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-.
Up again, up around and land back on the boardwalk, and walk home, hand in hand, and go up the stairs and into bed.
It could start like that, be just like that.
I won't know until I go to sleep and wake up in the morning. I hope you come out and ask me to play.
I hope, I hope.
My real day will not be any of that.
Calls to be made for the family business, and employee contracts to write up for it. Adding golden wheat stocks with pochoir (fancy pants name for stenciling) to my The Little Prince broadside (fancy pants name for poster) for class. Writing to publishers and hoping, begging that they'll give me copyright permission to quote their YA texts in my final printing project this semester. Building bookcases and finally unpacking my books if I'm not too lazy about it. Talking and tweeting. Since it was a bad night for sleep, there should be a nap in there, too.
I like my first answer better.