Tomorrow Here We Come #6

She perches on her cream-colored windowsill as a robin would upon a branch. Taking a look outside of herself, she sees all that is good around her. Look at the sky, what with its baby-blue face freckled with wisps of cloud cover. Hear the gentle crunch of dying leaves under the tender feet of newly birthed fawns, or the gentle shushing of feathered-wings taking flight. Smell the earth- the rich tone of moist soil mixed with the crispness of mountain air takes away her breath. Feel the cool breeze run his fingers over her skin, over her cheeks and lips and arms, as lovers would.
A blur catches her eye- a grey, bushy-ball of fuzz nimbly leaping and plunging this way and that up an oak tree, his tiny cheeks bulging with this winter’s meal plan. Another squirrel joins the first in a dance to the top of the oak, both in perfect harmony with one-another. She chuckles quietly to herself- if only she were that nimble, running would be a breeze. Her clumsiness was something out of a horror movie, what with her long limbs tangling themselves up in the most inopportune of moments. Her mind flashes back to Freshman year- oh that first day, what a horror it was. Bushy hair, braces, acnes, social anxiety- she had the works. But what really made that first day a memory was running face first into the auditorium while her crush held open the other door for her. Her nose had throbbed for a week!
She wishes that she hadn’t made that mistake- hadn’t made so very many mistakes. However, who would she be without them? She has called herself a mistake for oh so many years… how could she think of herself any different? How can any of us think of ourselves any different? Yes, we have all fucked up- more than once, more than just a few times. But so has everyone else. We are not alone in our fuckupedness. So go ahead, cut yourself some slack, have a glass of red (fuck it the whole bottle) or a bag of Nacho Doritos or a whole fucking bag of Chips Ahoy cookies, because you, love, are only human, as am I.