The day I found a moment

That had escaped the flow of time,

I chased it, in wonder and scrutiny.

What I found was a story, a whole life instead.

There was joy, and there was sorrow

And a promise for all of eternity.

And so every passing instant

Makes us laugh, makes us cry.

It's full of certain uncertainty.

...the day I found an egg carton strewn across the walk.

Irritated I was tempted to kick it off the path.

Garbage's right there! Picturing the idiot, failing to make the basket

I saw myself taking a grand 4-pt-shot----Whoooooosh!!

And so, I stooped, picking it up, eggshell like, light-as-a-feather.

Something's off-balance....hmmmmm.

I clucked: wtf--? cracking the cover

...when something clucked back.

09.01.2024

(Strange Suspense)@Last

The day I found an expiration date (written in flat moles) on my head when my male pattern baldness revealed it, I demanded to know why they didn't tell me. My parents with their dreadful secret! My parents had a beautiful baby with an expiration date! And on his head! No wonder they kept my hair long as a kid.

Perhaps a comb-over is prudent.

The day I found an apology message in my unanswered chats because somehow. I felt my heart burst.

Finally…. someone had acknowledged their wrongs, for once, I wasn’t the only one shouldering the guilt. As I read, a strange emptiness settled in.

More guilt. I have been busy clinging to their mistake that I no longer knew how to see a deliberate hurt or not.

The day I found an ounce of self-respect, something that had been lost, sequestered in the junk drawer of my soul, was when I knew it was time to be free from my dependency.

This year I vow to shed my lifelong addiction to Thanksgiving leftovers. I can do it by myself and without a prolonged delay. So, on November 29th, I’m gonna quit…cold turkey.

The day I found a lump was not the worst day of my life. Surgery, chemo, radiotherapy, baldness, fatigue, nausea. The pity in other people's eyes. Pain, always pain. Sometimes throbbing, sometimes pulsing, sometimes stabbing. My life ebbed rapidly away, each day more wretched than the last. I cursed every god I could. And then like a wounded animal, I curled up to die.

The day I found a weathered journal in the attic, its cracked leather and yellowed pages revealed a 1923 entry about uncovering a hidden truth. Inside were sketches, symbols, and a faded town map marked with an X beneath the old clock tower. Remembering a childhood story of a secret room there, I felt a strong urge to uncover the long-buried mystery.

The day I found 65 words in my mind was the day I finally understood the way things work around here. First comes the thought, and then it manifests in some way into waking reaility. So, this is what you do. You look at what you expect and then look at what you’ve got, and Bob’s your uncle. You can now create whatever you want.

The day I found an abandoned pin the tail, changed my world view. I didn't know then what it was. I brought the thing to the kitchen table where the family happened to assemble.

I says: "what's this?"

"It's a game."

?

"Like blind-man's-bluff."

?

"Except with not with moving target."

?

"ugh like this!"

Demonstration, hand over eyes, pinning the thing to my butt.