Daily Dose- Ordinary

via Daily Prompt: Ordinary

I.

I could be

that ordinary girl, they raised me to convince people

I was;

with a closet full of blouses,

a good career, and

heaps of college debt I chip away at

with gratitude;

Dishes in the cupboard, a neat set

I received as a wedding gift;

plants on the window sill and a cat

whose box I dutifully scoop

each morning,

in a room no one uses.

I could collect coupons

and pebbles from the beach

and get together with the neighbors

on warm saturdays

to have a beer on the deck

and watch the sun set as the children chase each other

across the neatly manicured lawn.

I could be-

I even aimed to be,

but along to the path to Great Ordinary Achievment

I saw a light through the trees.

II.

I cannot convince people

that I am anything resembling ordinary.

I’ve given up trying.

My suitcase holds a homemade kilt,

patched together with leather scraps

and a rabbit pelt,

a couple of shirts, one black,

one intricately patterned in green and gold and blue;

I do not work for money,

but for my family,

teaching my children what truly matters

outside the constraints of waxed tile floors

and desks attached to the seats;

my college debt will be forgiven

in eleven more years, because I talk to the right institution

without ever giving them a penny-

they know I don’t have any to spare and I’m grateful for our understanding.

I own two pink plates and bowls,

and two of each in blue,

two tin cups

and a box of plastic flatware that were not

gifts from the zero guests in attendance

at the courthouse the day

my beaming boyfriend

Became my glowing husband.

The windows in the bus

have no sills

and my treasures live in a box

with a bronze clasp, and the children speak in hushed voices

every time I pull it out

to rifle through the polished stones and four leaf clovers.

The dog prefers to wander

and grows morose between four walls.

She craves the feeling of moss and leaves beneath her paws,

the wind singing in her ears as she races

to the stream’s edge to drink

with her feet in the water.

I collect road kill

and draw pictures upon,

or make wind chimes and hair ornaments of their bones

that they might live again

rather than be dumped in a city disposal site

far from the cries of their kin.

We get together with our brothers and sisters of the road

for cheap booze and shitty liquor

and shoot off fireworks under the bridge

or gather around a pit, warm and bright

and eat day old bread and beans from the can,

as the children dance wildly

in the moonlight to the sounds of the mandolin,

the guitar, maybe a kazoo

and the rise of fall of voices and laughter

through the moonlit wood,

where,

perhaps,

some well meaning young lady pauses on the path

unbuttoning her collar and wondering

where the flickering light creeping into her line of her sight,

and the drifting, jaunty music

might lead

off the beaten path;

this life is beautiful

and anything but ordinary.

Author: kheprisilvanis

I love my life, my family and our traveling adventure. I hate tweakers and bad parenting.

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