Today’s prompt was “Write about memories underfoot.”
I didn’t feel like writing this morning. Wasn’t feeling creative at all. It was more of a journaling exercise than a writing exercise for me this morning — writing about what was literally under my feet, namely, my lovely winged back chair. I bought this chair when I lived in Texas, over a decade ago. It’s covered with a green/gold/red tapestry fabric. I shopped for about a month to find this chair. It fits me — I can sit properly in it, and have my feet still touch the floor — something I can actually rarely say about chairs.
I also wrote about this idea of laying down to go to sleep and the memories underfoot swarming up your legs, to your knees, then strking out from that home base, tendrils rising toward the brilliant sun of your mind, getting entangled with your dreams, until you break out in blossoms all over your body with new memories, new thoughts, new dreams.
The other memories I wrote about are private. But a lot happened last week, and I processed through that some more. (Yeah, it still sucks.)
There’s stuff going on this morning that’s distracting me — I will post about it eventually.