It was this kind of day.
For some of us, anyway
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I worry a lot more about a lot more these days . . .
I worry when I’m tired
I worry when I’m behind
I worry when I can’t get things –
when I can’t get enough things –
done.
I worry that I won’t ever finish
I worry that I will.
I worry when my muscles twinge
when my foot hurts
when I don’t hear from my son.
I worry when the rental checks are late hitting the post office box
when the orange light comes on in the car’s dashboard
when Mother stands up and gets dizzy.
I worry when I have to ask folks to repeat what they just said
I worry when others ask me to repeat what I just said
I worry when there’s a tickle in my throat.
I worry when the words won’t come
when there’s no time to stitch
when the clock strikes hourly.
I worry when the floor’s slippery
when riding in the rain
when my head hurts.
I worry when I worry.
I never used to.
Worry, I mean.
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I’m delighted to be teaching a class
at Woo School
called I AM Story
in which we spend 3 months writing our life stories.
It’s fun and satisfying,
and you’ll surprise and delight yourself,
I promise.
Join us, why don’t you?
You need to breath in a lot less worry…
Love you sugar…
ain’t that the truth, sug?
I just copied this beautiful poem into my journal. It hit me in the heart. xx
My dad told me that I was a good at worrying because I practice it so much.
(At the time, he was good at procrastinating, because he practiced that so much.)
thanks for your huge heart.