I wrote two posts for the3six5, and could only submit one. This is the one that wasn’t submitted. 🙂
I’ve always found waking up in someone else’s bed is a unique experience. Of course, that’s one of many things I don’t actually own. The bed is my parents’, one of the spare ones in my room-spare room-turned my room again. I also don’t own a TV.
It’s odd thinking of the things I actually do own. More makeup and bath things than a girl needs. Five cats, though I still maintain they own me more than I own them. Enough books – no, never enough books – but enough books to start a mini library. Approximately 10000 hours of live recordings, most that have never been listened to, and many the only copy of.
On the flip side, some of my greatest passions aren’t represented by things. Despite my great love for the game of futebol/soccer, I own but two jerseys. I own possibly 3 or 4 books with Portuguese words and phrases, despite me spending the last few months trying to add words to my everyday vocabulary. I don’t own a lot of actual poetry books when it comes down to it (excluding the 8 copies of one certain book).
I live in Kansas. We have no basement, just a crawlspace we stock with Girl Scout Cookies, extra cat food, water, and enough cage space to throw the fuzzies in if the sirens blow. All of this could be blown away in the blink of an eye. My storm bag is packed with as many of my poetry notebooks that I can fit, my favorite copy of Leaves of Grass, and room enough for hard drives and laptops. Most of these things are just that – things that can be replaced. Maybe. Some of them can’t.
But every morning, I wake up, roll over and check the weather on my Kaylee. (Yes, I named my phone). Will this just be a normal spring day in Tornado Alley, watching the clouds and radar intermittently, and going about our day? Or will it be a day that changes my life in some unforeseen way?
Only time and Mother Nature can tell; we always have to be vigilant, lest she smack us when we least expect it.