She was in the chair in front of mine. Her hair was colored badly, overgrown, uneven past her shoulders. I wanted to cut her hair. I wanted to give her a bath and put her to bed. I wanted to kiss her all over, maybe sing something to her, even though I don’t like to sing. Just something. To soothe her. She could be well off by herself; but she’s sanguine, hopeful as a child about tomorrow. That day would bring someone along for sure. Me. She was strong and assertive but equally vulnerable – like that dog with all the different colors and no collar who belonged to no one – its hair was unruly, dull in spots. For a while he had managed to survive on scraps and bowls of food put out by neighborhood animal lovers — I could take care of her — introduce her to a different way, calm her.
This makes me smile but makes me sad at the same time.
I think I had that same feeling writing it. It does have maybe a melancholy undertone…
The yearning in this is kind of lovely.
Thanks PM! It is a yearning.
that is so touching. I understand that completely
Thank you Carla — I’m glad you connected to it.
Touching, sad, poignant and caring and loving… and not only that but you’re a lot better than me because if I was to try and soothe someone they would block their ears in pain… my cat sings better
Thanks Claire! I don’t sing very well either! Lol!
Tag! You’re it!! Come to my blog and participate!
that was really beautiful.
Thanks Jessica — I know your taste from the books and poetry you reference — getting a compliment from you about my writing hits the spot!
that’s beautiful – short, succinct, oozing with feeling, perfect.
Thank you thank you so much — I’m glad you think so. I started this a while ago and wondered what to do with it.
So evocative! You created a wonderful visual as well as the beautiful emotional component. Lovely.
I’m glad you liked it Kathy! Thank you! Nice to know that people connect to what I’m saying.
Brilliant! You’re so good at creating an atmosphere of present, of being there… I feel like cutting her hair too.
Thanks Anette — I missed you!