ch-ch-ch-changes

treeimperfection.jpg

 

with each passing day, i become more concerned.

i struggle to keep concern from turning into full-blown worry.

i battle worry for fear the object of my worry will materialize.

see, the thing is:

i don’t care any more.

it’s alarming how i don’t care any more.

am i losing my ability to empathize if

i’m not brought to my knees with shared, imagined pain?

have i lost all self-respect if

i don’t flare into full-blown despair in response to criticism?

has my dignity completely disappeared if

i don’t get angry?

what’s wrong with me?

have i succumbed to acedia?

are my hormones drying up?

is it time to set aside concern and move into out-and-out worry?

wait.

wait just a minute . . .

what if it’s something as simple as,

i mean,

could it be that i’m just developing

patience?

3 Comments

  1. Kira

    this reminds me of a grown-up version of a shel silverstein poem. 🙂 however, i am in no danger of developing this thing you describe.

  2. Julie Jordan Scott

    brava, Jeanne, brava!! Love these words!!!

  3. Shannon

    A hug and a high-five for your inner smartass. You're a delight 🙂

Pull up a chair why don't you, and let's talk . . .

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