#nudesign

Is this going to be an incredible day? Find the qualities within you that make each day incredible.

Today I saw a lonely red headed boy sitting on a stoop. There was a look of longing cleverly hidden behind the innocent façade of the child. He is smart—this one. He knows more than those around him do and he knows it. The child mind does not permit him to process the information in a way that he can communicate his differences to those around him who have not felt his pain or experienced his insight. He knows that even a hint of realization could bring them pain. So, he carries it around; an extra load, which is seemingly heavy on his little frame. Occasionally, he reads a book or sees a film where the writer is able to capture his truth but quickly the book ends or the credits roll, leaving him again alone. He puts is head down away from the sun, away from the light. He wishes for a day without information. “Let me just ‘be’ my Lord. Let me just ‘be.’” He will grin. He will laugh. He will cry when he is alone. He knows that he must bare it for his real work has not yet begun. He raises his head, reties his shoes and goes home…again.

I caught myself in the fridge again, conversing with the cheese. It speaks with a gentle kindness while the leftover Chinese food looks on with resentment. There is nothing more angry than a day old, ignored Asian Chicken. It is definitely more sour than sweet. I could swear that I heard the apples gasp when I selected an orange to accompany the cheese on the snack plate. "No accounting for taste," someone said. I think it was the mustard. "French's." Figures. I am feeling judged in my own kitchen. I never have this problem with the freezer. Too cold; it simply cannot be bothered. The ice cream always seems to warm to my presence. I retire, full, to the quiet comforts of my living room. I wonder now as I may wonder until the day of my death: does the refrigerator light really go out when you close the door? I may never know. Somewhere in the distance, a single dill laughs at my uncertainty. Who knew that the answers to life's questions were contained in the life of a lonely pickle?