by Cerridwen Lee
What am I proud of? Well, I suppose over my few but
tempestuous 18 years it would be a matter of what I’m grateful for and have
become proud of. The small things I guess. I’m grateful for the small cluster
of woodland five minutes from my door where I can sit in peace by the little fairy
pool I’m fond of, or kick the crap out of the fallen heap of leaves on the
ground in sudden regression to my much younger years. I’m grateful for the
scattering of vibrant twinkling stars above my head in an inky sky on a crystal
clear winter’s night and for my obscure mind that creates the weird imaginings
of what happens up there making me forget momentarily that I can’t remember
what it feels like to have a nose.
I’m grateful for my strange family, and the sacred tradition
that if we have pancakes they MUST NOT be made in regular pancake batter
colour, and either are eaten in the vibrant colours of snot green, powder blue,
hot pink or lemon yellow. I’m grateful for the fat ginger kittens that waddle
around my small bungalow home, occasionally darting up the heavy rust orange
curtains and dangle precariously at the top. I’m grateful for all the wonderful
and sometimes bloody mind-boggling words in the English language that help me
to weave my poetry that makes me feel better about the few arses that I
unfortunately encounter on a day-to-day basis.
I suppose the list could go on forever and the more I give
you of it the more bored you readers may become and even worse, the more
insight you may get into my somewhat unusual life. But I am proud of all those
little things. They make life worth living.
1 comments:
Hi, Cerridwen, and tnx for the entertainment of this piece.
Sounds to me as though you are most proud of being able to express yourself so vividly, and having alert senses to experience so many aspects of life.
Hope to read more of your clarity.
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