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I’ve been quiet the last few Fridays. LisaJo’s prompts for the crazy madhouse of writing that is Five Minute Friday – five minutes, one topic, no stopping, not editing – have been intriguing of late…but my heart, my energy, wasn’t in it. This week, however, I was determined to participate, because I love the community that has been built over there! I’m a bit nervous hitting “publish” on this one, because it seems different from my usual style…sort of like a beatnik poem in a darkened room. I dunno…
Anyway, here’s my best five minutes on RHYTHM.
The thud of the basket hitting the bed is the conductor’s baton calling the orchestra to attention.
The gentle swoosh of a malleted cymbal is the first item removed; warm and soft and inviting. My daughter’s dress.
Wrists flick. Snap! The rap of a snare drum marking time.
Absently I pick, flick, fold and plop. Again and again.
Tension builds, volume rises. Tinkling piano keys rinse the dishes still covered in bread crumbs and jelly smears and evidence of the vegetables someone had “eaten.”
Tympani boom with the pots and pans, the heavy lifters of the kitchen world.
The orchestra hit of the swoosh and slosh and inexplicable rattle and bang of the dishwasher punctuates the day as I shuffle my feet – dirty and tired, stepped on by tiny toes as they climbed the mommy ladder – to the bedroom once more.
The conductor lowers the baton with the click as the light goes out.
These are the rhythms – the soundtrack – to my day. At times they are mundane and lulling, bidding me sleep and dream of lands far grander.
But even in those dreams, these rhythms beat deep in my soul, for they go far beyond the undies and socks and dishes and pots. They run deep in my veins, beat strong in my heart.
These rhythms are my family.
And we make beautiful music together.