A Normal Life
A normal life is picking flowers in the field. Full of happiness and joy alone is okay there in this normal life where my house is mine, firstly mine. I am happy with my kitty Whitley, and the house is clean.
Or that is one example.
I am prompted to write about our "so called notions" of what is normal. What could possibly be, when there are so many unique seconds to be had. In that sense, life would run pretty fast.
A normal life is waking up next to you, even though you are on the opposite coast of america right now. Waking up and kissing in bed, then watching how cute Whitley is, stretching on the bed. We may roll around a bit, or indulge in a dash of kisssing before running to the kitchen for something to drink. Eventually, we eat.
That was an old normal, nice to write about, images filling my head, of what was, or could be, anywhere, right now. Normal. An odd work to think about.
Or that is one example.
I am prompted to write about our "so called notions" of what is normal. What could possibly be, when there are so many unique seconds to be had. In that sense, life would run pretty fast.
A normal life is waking up next to you, even though you are on the opposite coast of america right now. Waking up and kissing in bed, then watching how cute Whitley is, stretching on the bed. We may roll around a bit, or indulge in a dash of kisssing before running to the kitchen for something to drink. Eventually, we eat.
That was an old normal, nice to write about, images filling my head, of what was, or could be, anywhere, right now. Normal. An odd work to think about.