As I sit and contemplate how to approach my writing today, I nod to Charles Dickens. One, in the title of this entry. Two, in reflection of his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” where two lives diverge in a wood. Where it’s impossible to know what life would be like without certain choices. Yet where the author knows the choices have made all the difference. So here it is… A Tale of Two Lives.
****** ** ****** ** ****** ** ****** I’m out of town for the weekend, Just my husband and I. What do we do with ourselves? It feels so odd. So much time, so little agenda. The normal hustle and bustle Quieted for four days. There’s time to talk Time to hike Time to read Time for quiet. The mornings are slow We wake on our own Are lazy to get ready Yet we’re always prepared With time to spare. It’s nice My has it been nice. But, oh, do we miss our lives. The ones that are busy With days filled to the brim So much agenda, so little time. Quiet that’s broken without end With little time to ourselves. There’s meals to be made Little feet to chase Hugs to give Arguments to quell Stories to share. Mornings are a blur We wake to alarms and children Rush to get everyone out the door We’re always just barely on time Not a minute to spare. It’s chaos But it’s full And it’s ours And I can’t wait to get home.
3 Comments
Beth Sanderson
3/6/2023 12:03:00 pm
What a lovely sentiment. Life is richer for this dichotomy! Your vivid language offers the reader a chance to enjoy both the quiet and the joyful chaos!
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Lisa Goldman
3/6/2023 04:33:53 pm
Love your take on this Slice! Excellent writing.
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