I could be a cartoon - a wide-eyed foolish girl in a canoe paddling towards a waterfall. I know it's there, right ahead. I can hear it, I can feel the impending descent in my bones, but I think that if I brace myself in my seat and hold the oar a little tighter I'll glide over the edge gracefully. Maybe the best I can hope for at this point is to make it amusing - the canoe shoots out, hangs in the air; I smile, look down, say "uh oh" in a goofy voice, and plummet. Laughter will help me crawl out of the wreckage later.
Stepping out into a cool morning that promises rain, I walk slowly and focus on breathing.
The yolks sizzle and crisp in the pan. Cheese bubbles, and the salsa spits red and green.
Stunned by the heat of the afternoon, I sprawl on my bed with a book and read by the light that beats in through the blinds.
The large owlish sunglasses change her face so much that only the fact that she's staring in my direction and smiling makes me stop walking and take a closer look.
For everything I do I wonder if I could be doing something better, more worthwhile. I'm so caught up in 'what-ifs' that I get little done.
The remaining roses are a pale brittle pink, as if they have a skin condition.