R.L. SAUNDERS

writer attempting real life in the middle of everybody else's vacation

Here, trying.

Here’s a little thing I wrote this morning during that short window after the coffee when everything’s going to be okay and you’re prone to adverbs. You know what I mean, writers. You know what I mean.

xxx

The perfect joy I feel about the spring blooming things along the path to my door is wholly disproportional to the effort it took to shove a few bulbs into the earth last fall when it was too glorious outside to be not-outside anyway. This ROI doesn’t seem fair in a No Pain, No Gain existence where Just Anybody isn’t qualified, hasn’t earned it–where we convolute and transpose the small stuff and the big stuff. Since it’s short and I might get only this one, maybe I’ll quit deferring so much of my life to the experts. Maybe that’s growth.

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