Saturday, August 13, 2011

Shoes

There is a reason for particular expressions, like the experience named as waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the next bad thing to happen.  Sometimes it is the sign of an overstimulated amygdala, the part of our brain responsible for the fight/flight/freeze response.  It is part of our survival mode, from ancient days. Sometimes it kicks in for good reason, sometimes it*s just that we*re afraid of something that will never happen anyway, and we*ve sent an incredible amount of adrenaline coursing through our body to remain vigilant on a perfectly lovely sunny day, and we miss the sand between our toes.  The amygdala is often our friend, it keeps us alive.  Sometimes, though, it keeps us from living.



This morning it seems I spend a lot of time
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Even when I finally walk barefoot
On the beach,
 Not a shoe in sight,
Instead of the sand scrunch between my toes,
Instead of the sight of wheeled seagulls overhead,
I listen to the weather report,
Feel the barometric pressure
Of imminent shoes.

Last night
Driving to the diner
It didn*t rain.
The sky threatened;
Looked like big gray bubbles.
The weather guy said high winds,
Pea sized hail.
When we got home it sprinkled
Warm rain.
The clouds dissipated.
I noted
There was still a ring
Around the full moon.
I was not awake but meteor showers
Were predicted
From  2 to 5 AM.
Today it looks like sun.

Today
There is a pile of my shoes
Around the writing chair,
My daughter*s shoes fill the entryway.
My husband takes his shoes off
Next to the bed
When he goes to sleep
At night.

I wait for the barometric pressure to change.
It signals the possible other shoe
Even though all the shoes I see
Are in pairs.

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