Life Is Like A Snow Globe

And coincidentally like a box of chocolates too.

(Courtesy Of Canva)

It’s been a few clicks since I last penned or posted anything. Needless to say, I doubt I have missed much.

Here is the thing. I haven’t stopped writing. In a sense at least.

I have been putting prose down in my head. Snippets here and phrases there, but sitting stationary for longer than a beer getting warm holds no interest.

Pain and anger have been keeping me from typing.

And that is what I am trying to figure out.

What am I angry about?

Off the cuff, I could spew off some shoulda, woulda, coulda scenarios, but none of it is relevant.

I am angry for something I can’t read myself out of.

I want to be clever. I want some profound wisdom to emerge from the fog I am moving through. I am trying to articulate the feeling of drowning on dry land.

What I zeroed in on is that life is more like a snow globe on an old dusty shelf.

It sits there. No fingertips on the glass. A city block, a countryside, a landscape in waiting, submerged in water.

Sitting on a shelf encased in a reality that seems pretty on the outside, but once life shakes it up, snowflakes fall in chaos. Life…