My writing exercise this week is to finish the following sentence.
"I would like to jump into a big pile of . . ."
Hmmmmmm. Interesting. I had several ideas right off the bat, but they were all proving to have downfalls.
I would love to jump into a big ol' pile of puppies!! Just imagine happy little puppies crawling all over you, nuzzling you with their wet little noses and smacking you with their wiggly little tails! All those different textures of soft fuzzy fur. The springy little wire haired pups. The super fluffy long haired pups and the smooth, silky short haired pups. I can hear their little yaps and squeaks in my mind. Oh my Gad! It would be glorious!
But, practicality rears it's ugly head on my puppy dreams. If I were to literally 'jump' into a pile of puppies, I think we can all agree, it would not end well for the puppies. Two things could happen. Either there is a sad, horrible pile of broken puppies, or the puppies wise up, and as I'm in mid jump they part like the Red Sea, and I hit the ground like your nerdy uncle trying to stage dive into the mosh pit at a Metalica concert. Considering this information, no, I would not like to jump into a pile of puppies. I would, however, like to lay down gently into a pile of puppies and let them run all over me. That would be epic.
It does not help me with this exercise though. Since it's autumn here in Canada, I could always fall back on jumping into a big pile of freshly raked leaves. (See what I did there)! But jumping in big piles of leaves was ruined for me in childhood. As young girls, my sister and I spent hours raking up all the leaves up in our backyard. It was a cloudy fall day, and it was a lot of hard work, but we kept at it because we new that there was a big payday at the end. Jumping into those leaves was going to be our sweet consolation.
Now, I don't remember jumping per se, but I do remember the joyous feeling of rolling around in those leaves and throwing them up in the air and letting them rain down on my face again and again. There is something else that I remember too, and that's when my mother burst out the back door and started hollering at the top of her lungs for us to get the hell out of the leaves. What was her problem I thought? Why does she always have to ruin our fun?
"They're full of dog poop, ya dummies"!
Ooooooooohhh. Yes, we had forgotten about our two very productive cocker spaniels. Right. Well we jumped out of those leaves like they were on fire and I haven't seen this classic fall activity in the same way since. So, yeah, pile of leaves is out.
Whatcha doin' in there boy?
After some thought and consideration I have weeded out these other possibilities as well:
Cotton balls? Boring
Clouds? Wet
Marshmallows? Sticky
Feathers? Pokey
Kittens? See Puppies
And then it came to me. What I would really like to jump into, is a pile of warm, fresh from the oven, squishy white bread. Imagine sinking into that warm, soft pile, the delicious smell wrapping itself around you like a cozy blanket. It would feel like being hugged by Mother Mary herself. Sigh! I would just dig myself a little burrow and curl up for days, inhaling life's most homey scent. Oh man! I may be a freak, but that would be awesome!
Mmmmmmmmmmm!
Michy
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