Some days, I run around like Wonder Woman, whipping my lightening bolt and slaying dragons.
Some days, the buckles on my shoes defy me.
Some days, I leap on the stepper and do my ten minutes like a rock star.
Some days, I put on my grandmother’s pink house coat and eat crystallized ginger by the handful.
Some days, the dog’s silly look amuses me and I take her picture to send my son.
Some days, my feet trip over the dog’s water dish which my blurry eyes have not seen.
Some days, I hammer out paragraph after paragraph of brilliant prose.
Some days, words elude my grasping, exhausted brain.
Some days my heart swells with belief in possibility.
Some days I want to throw myself through a plate glass window.
* * *
My grandmotherused to tell me to put my best foot forward. I would look down at my shiny new penny loafers which she had just purchased for me at the shoe store next to her office. I would pause on the curb and say, Which foot is my best foot, Nana? She would reply, The one going first.
It’s the eleventh day of the thirty-second month of My [Never-Ending] Year Without Complaining. Life continues.