not mine to keep

Sometimes I want to tell you about things, but I don’t know why.   And sometimes I want to tell you things, but I don’t know how.

It has something to do with magic.  Too much to hold.  Not enough to touch.  Both at the same time.

Touch is my strongest sense, by a long shot.

I don’t have a very developed sense of smell.  There’s only a handful of scents I can even recognize, and even then– only if I am paying close attention.  Most days, it’s a gift.

Some days, I wish I knew what makes other people flutter their eyelids shut when they lean over a cup of coffee first thing in the morning.

I know why I close my eyes.  I’m letting the steam kiss my face.  I’m running my fingers over the rim of the mug, feeling every indentation.  I will feel the shape of it on my lips, feel the weight of the drink on my tongue.

Touch is my strongest sense, by a long shot, which is probably why I can’t remember what color the bar stool legs are.  The seat is a brown leather, more than a few shades darker than me.  I remember that because I remember watching my hands draw circles on it.  I learned the shape of it.  I know every slight indent.  I know the exact shape of its edges.

I want to tell you about the bar stool, but I don’t know why.  I don’t know how.  It has something to do with magic.  Too much to hold. Not enough to keep.

Both, at the same time.

There are songs that play over it.  One time there was a song about Tennessee whisky.  One time a splash of Japanese whiskey dropped on its legs and I ran my hands up them to dry it rather than reach for a towel.

Oh that’s right.  It’s legs are chrome.  They feel cool and smooth, even in the early morning sunlight, when my bare legs lean against its own.  There was a book of Aesop’s fables, one early day, and pancakes one other time. The seat moves back and forth, and I know exactly how much movement on my part it takes.

We dance, that barstool and I.

I know how it feels when I put pressure on it.  I know how that changes the skin of it, the feel.

It knows me.   It knows how I feel when the world puts pressure on me.  How that pressure changes the skin of me.  The feel of me.

Sometimes I am knocked off my feet, but the bar stool holds my weight.  Sometimes I am unsure, but the bar stool holds my secrets.  It is a strong seat.  Strong enough to hold magic, and maybe that’s why so much magic finds its way to it.

Music bubbles in the air around it. Whiskey leaps.  Aesop whispers his stories, syrup runs over my pancakes, and I fill myself with the sweetness of it all.

A slow dance begins, and I can almost touch the gravity of every sway.  I can almost touch the smoothness of every note.

Touch is my strongest sense, and I want to tell you all about it, but this kind of magic is too much to hold

…. and not mine to keep.

Pepper2017

Ra @ Rarasaur
Julie @ Bug Bytes
Bill @ Bill Friday
Elsie @ Ramblings of a writer
Jessie @ Behind the Willows
Anita Shree @ Heartsongs blog
Sarina @ Shining Seeds Blog
Lori @ LoriStory Blog
Kasturika @ Musings of an eccentric mind
Lorna @ Gin & Lemonade Blog 
Angie @ The Muses Words
Varuna @ Vanilla With Sprinkles
Ghost @ Teleportingweena
Sibelius Russell @ Consolations Many Form Blog
Sarah @ Mother of Serendipity
Juliette Kings @ Vampire Maman
Lindsay @ The Flynnigans Blog 
Emily @ Zombie Flamingos Blog 
Carolyn R Owens @ Infinity Coaching Leadership Blog
Kitty Litterbox @ Litterbox Riot Blog 
Erica @ The Broken Spine Blog 
Erica @ The Ink Slinger Blog 
Charlene @ The Illusion Of Controlled Chaos Blog 
Sahara @ I Didn’t Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving Blog
Briton @ Punk Rock Papa Blog
Kim @ Drunk On Life Blog 
David Ellis @ TooFullToWrite Blog
Tooks @ mrtookles (insta-blog)
Kate @ Will Wally Wonder 
Varad @ Loose End of the Red Thread
The Don @ Blended in the Middle Blog 
Palak @ Expressions Blog 
Victoria @ The Loneliness of the Stay-at-Home-Mother Blog 
Namratha @ NamySaysSo Blog 
Ka Malana @ Fiestaestrellas!
Edward @ Edward Fagan Blog
Robert @ Fresh Off the Pad Poetry
Lizzie Ward @ Cats and Chocolate Blog 
Jesska @ Not Throwing Stones
Quixie @ Quixie’s Mind Palace
Heather @ tUrtlettE Blog 
Sarah @ TZBlog
Matt @ The Matticus Kingdom
Cyn @ That Cynking Feeling

Thank you, as always, for reading.

 

19 Comments

    1. “Welcome to November ” is such a breath of fresh air, you have a knack for writing a bit of freedom into air. I made it to November, yay me. 🙂 Thank you for reading. Thank you for being here.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I don’t like it…I LOVE IT!!! I’m not as gifted a writer as you are. I admire writers who are good at describing things. I’m not good with that that’s why I sometimes work extra hard on my descriptions….But going back to the piece, I love that you made me feel your words. Very powerful words.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much. You’re very kind. 🙂 Your words are amazing. I think there are different types of writers for all kinds of readers. Your words, for instance, always speak to me. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Touch may be your strongest sense but taste is mine and what do I find in this piece? Pancakes! I can’t remember colours when I shut my eyes but how a thing feels, it is both magic and woven into muscle memory. A bar stool may harbour many secrets and bear terrible burdens but at least it does not judge or cast unwanted opinions. It just gives comfort and relief without hesitation and that in itself is a kind of magic. Thank you for the interesting read and shifting my perspective now on all inanimate objects into anthropomorphic/sentient beings.

    Like

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