Squirrel and Hiram

Peering out my kitchen window
I observe a squirrel
perched on the ground

Head down
back arched
tail high in the air

Still as a statue

But I know she isn't a statue
she's concentrating
totally absorbed in her job

Burrowing a hole
to bury a nut
I presume

The ground is ripe
for digging
it rained last night

A few moments later
she raises her head
tail twitches

Job complete

She scampers
to the giant scarlet oak
whom I have named Hiram

Bedrock

Parts of my brain feel blank. Missing. Inaccessible.
Do I use proper punctuation, or not?
Not.
I will leave those periods in place, even though the one-word script does not make a sentence.
In the context, those dots provide a pause. For emphasis.

Physically I am faring better.
I actually felt rested after my nap yesterday.
And I feel rested this morning.
Will it last? I do not know.

Perhaps I'm in that place where I feel good enough to start on one of my home projects.
But my fear overrides that impulse, thinking it is just an impulse.
The reality will end up as it always does. I can't follow through, so why begin?
It is a type of action-paralysis.
Lack of confidence in my own decisions, intuitions, opinions.
But I've always suffered from those lacks; have I not?

I waiver on the answer.

That's how my brain feels.
Indecisive. But not choosing is still a choice.
I fake it well.
I remember when Marie was surprised that I lacked confidence.
She said, "No one would know it."
But, oh how I battled.

Remember Carol? How you battled against thinking you were unintelligent?
You still battle it.
Except now, I feel I have less to hold onto.
Is that what this is?


Friday, 10/18/19