Stream of Thought

A Grown Child’s View

Taking the dogs out onto the green, I came upon a disassembled controller for a drone left in the longer side grass and placed its components on the short-nipped turf for some grandfather to find and return it to the youth’s piloting.

Zigging too and fro, one dog plunged its nose into the edge of the water leading to the pond. I thought with delight “Let’s go see it!” since we were there anyway and we had somehow arrived from one plane of existence to there just by sitting awhile in my car as it was idling.

A woman came out onto the grass behind us as we headed foward to explore the banks further, and I realized that at last the next generations’ mingling had taken over, blending once divided lines of status and prejudice into acceptance with dignity.

Humans cannot stop the waves of time’s change, and though it was confusing to feel the shifted social atmosphere where my grandparents used to live, it gave me hope for the world’s future.

Stream of Thought

Scratching An Itch

Recording numbers has been like a twitch: a necessary continuity that must be encoded by scripting into my phone’s notepad in order to wedge apart premises and keep them from colliding.

I had needed something to cling to that could represent aspirations, but now I have come to accept the basics that I do and do not want.

And I am recognizing that I only look for and listen to those messages which speak to me positively.