In trying some new things, writing wise, I keep coming back to these essays of sorts. They aren't really stories, yet they are. It's kind of odd, and very new, but I'm going with it. This is one of the newest.. THE newest, actually... and all I could think when I wanted a title was "Simple".
She wants to stand at her back door and eat a hot dog. It's really that simple. It's quiet, but for the music and comforting hum of the dryer- but the thunder is rolling in. And all she wants is to stand barefoot in her kitchen, back door open wide,hot dog in hand and listen to the storm. Yep, she really is just that easy to please.
It's the little things, the ones that take her back to being a barefoot kid playing in the rain. The memories that come back with a sound or a scent, a lyric or a perfect storm rolling in just when it's time to get comfy for the night. Just in time to curl up in bed with a book or a movie playing low in the background. All that's missing is a glass of wine and the perfect snuggle, but she isn't too concerned- she knows she'll have one of those things, the important one, before much longer.
It's like new again, this enjoying the moments that come when you need them most, when you least expect them. She's proven something to herself lately.. and that's where that counts, too. In proving to herself that she could... she absolutely could. That was a mountain she never thought she'd see the other side of... it was almost a miracle, that knowing she could... the actual miracle was looking past that and seeing that she didn't have to.
She doesn't get that, not really. It's probably something she will never completely know, or hold onto. Time and experience are funny that way. They take a lot of your absolutes... but they give a lot of them back, too. Those are just harder to find, harder to accept, and so much more worth it. Those are the ones that stay, she thinks now, the ones you learn with some age and some experience. She doesn't think of it as jaded, she thinks of it as being just a touch more realistic than she once was.
She isn't sure how she feels about herself just yet- she's still finding pieces and dusting them off, or reaching for the ones she's ignored til now, finding a place for each one. She knows it isn't perfect, not all the pieces match, but they definitely go together well.
None of that matters tonight. Tonight she is thinking of something else, that one moment when it all clicked into place, in a way it really hadn't before. That ground under her feet is pretty solid as she stands there, barefoot, watching the storm roll in. It's really that simple. And neither one of them knew it until now.