Bad at Surrender
from Out With Lanterns
I only practice surrender while buckled into an airplane’s seat. Like when the wind whipped sideways over Boston Harbor and our small plane dropped, tipped sideways off air pockets, gusts so strong, I gasped and reached for the sick bag. We descended and I bargained– if we land safely, I will take better care of myself. If we land safely, I’ll stop worrying about everyone else. I’ll hydrate and budget better, remember that experiences are better than things. When we finally landed, one wheel staggering the runway, my palms and pits dripping, I got so stupid predictable, and couldn't even remember what it was I'd promised.
Oh Julie, I've been there!
so startling
and
so funny!