Eat the world slowly, my dear, one small bite at a time.
Chew it carefully, thoroughly, and squeeze all the juice from each bite before you swallow. There’s a lot there to digest.
Squint in the face of the salt air that sweeps across the planes of your sunny face as you eat. Take in the fresh water, cool and running down your throat.
Don’t gobble, my dear, there is too much on the table before you. Mind your elbows and your manners, smooth the napkin in your lap and fast infinitely between bites.
Take it in, as a banquet of wisdom and love, but choose only the tenderest of delicate morsels.
And if you’re good, there’ll be more dessert than your eyes can stand to see.
About the Creator
Synecdoche
I’m an artist... retired professional singer and stage actor, a writer, a bead artist, a sculptor, collage-er, I make accessories, am an activist and organizer, amateur chef (key word here is, “amateur,”) and Auntie extraordinaire.
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven3 days ago in Fiction
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