Aphdry

She pulls the covers up and nuzzles in. Her credit card interest fee's are high, holidays are coming and she'd have to cut back on presenting the feast she had hoped to present to her family. The gifts she wished she could buy people would have to be supplanted with the next best she could afford. She had a big heart with large wishing dreams for others she knew were inconceivable in today's world and her situation. She couldn't remember the dreams of her own, but wanted others to believe in the ability to achieve dreams and goals. Tonight, instead of thinking of these realisms, her brain branching took her no where near these thoughts. Instead to thoughts of a specific feeling.

She thought of the first time she watched 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' with Audrey Hepburn. The multitude of times she watched 'Sabrina' from 1995. She loved the classic feel not only of the woman being portrayed in the film, but the films themselves. How the acting took center stage to carry the story with very few effects. Very few bells and whistles. The old glam we aspire to on special occasions. The look those women inspire that the rest of us hope to achieve once in our lives.

Next branching off to the memory of my sweet pea, my dog. Originally someone elses dog, but the first time I met her she seemed to know I was hers. She ran in, B-lined towards me, and gave me a hug. Maybe she knew I needed one. She put her head on my shoulder while sitting on my lap. The night I got in bed and she crawled up, snuggling in under the crook of my arm. Everyday I wonder how such a sweet creature exists. She is pure sugar and love. I cherrish how her original owner could be so kind as to let us adopt her, realizing her love for us. I often think my dog is a human in a dog body, she is so understanding and expressive. A thought of sitting on the bed and how she will reach a paw out to put on top of my hand. According to youtube videos, her way of saying I love you. I whisper tiredly, "I love you too baby cakes".

Branching once again from the same feeling, I reminisce about the first time I received a top story listing. When I realized someone or someones actually read my writings. Then the tip. Then a family member saying "you were paid, I guess you may be a writer. At least a start." A start, starting is the hardest part at times, I made it past this. Made it past the care and vulnerability of sharing wild thoughts from my untameable mind. Like a child, with visions of sugar plums that danced in my head, searching words to express not the words but feelings and stories.

The branch sways me to sleep, carrying me to panglossian dreams.





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