bottom to the top

I don’t care if I have to cut meat with a butter knife. Use paper plates. Or if the plastic forks don’t match the plastic spoons. And if we were rolling in the dough, you can be sure that we’d share as much as we could. So others could eat. Sleep soundly. Have sturdy roofs above and solid foundations below. A place to keep warm. Be safe. And call home. But, we’re different, I guess. Me and S.B. We appreciate things—especially the small ones—and when you care so much about all the little parts that make up the whole, life is good. You realize that imperfections are potential. Years of wear adds character. And there is nothing wrong with mismatched plastic ware. The light of the world breaks wide open when you learn how to make the best of a bad situation. And as much as I can figure, this little nugget of happiness is directly related to trial-and-error, personality, and whatever magic is working behind the scene. Numerous things that cannot be understood at the time, but are Truths once you pull yourself up. Wipe the blood from your nose. Shake cobwebs from your head. And fearlessly, take another swing. Like being at the bottom. Going without. Having hand-me-downs. Being second best. Recognizing your roots. Being mindful of the past. Reaching out. Giving. Creating connectedness. And always—and I mean always—pushing ahead with chin up, guts in check, being ready and willing to take on whatever the day offers. Which, in the whole scheme of things, isn’t a calendar boxed off with days. Or hands on a clock that go round and round. But a big space of unknown. So, here’s to waking. Another lighted morning. One more chance. To celebrate what we have. Working slowly, steadily—one word at a time—to get from the bottom to the top. ~ K.J. [Copyright (c) 2012 by K.J. Stevens] As always, share with others as you see fit. Thanks for reading. ~ Stevens