Well, Hello!!

It is the first of April, and that can only mean one thing…the start of NaPoWriMo for 2022!!

So, I dutifully hopped on the site and was told that, for today’s prompt:

The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

I have been out for lunch today with two good friends of mine, and before that one of these friends and I had walked over 20 thousand steps in lovely sunshine, under brilliant blue skies, casting off layers as the initial chill warmed nicely. It was such a good way to spend the last day before the kids’ Easter break!

But let’s just say: I now have no problem tuning into the story my body is trying to tell me…!

I stood in her garden, let the warm rays play on the lids of my eyes. Got lost in the orange peace, let the road to my right become the hum in the lavender. Others’ narrowing chance at a successful school run faded into murmurs, the faint thwack of a football dissipated. I upturned my chin and smiled, sightless, at the sky until her key turned in the lock; and we were off.

“Courageous”.  One of the many words she brings to my mind, this walking companion. She can rise to any occasion: necessity her tutor, but creativity the spark. “That’s just life, you’ve got to get on with it” she tells me, again and again.  Hers is not like mine, but we validate the differences; and both come out smiling. A supposed generation apart I listen, as she wends us across the miles, to my own subtle clicks and bone groans.  Hear, too, her tell me of her cycling, running, and steps she has taken. I feel the familiar swell of friendly pride, then a chill of inevitability.

Alas, poor limbs, I

Stretched them oft. Still I envy

A Bambi, sprightly.

Yet on we chat; past the fawn and the water, past the need for cosier layers. Around us, toddlers are corralled and dogs lollop on loose leads. Sweeping sunlit strands behind our ears, we speak of age as just a number, but the weight of years is threaded through our talks. Those loved and lost, those best not referred to, those we struggle to part-way tame. Who knows what new voids we will encounter along the way, but walking with my friend teaches me anew that attitude is everything, and we choose what defines ‘whole’.

So there are my first scribblings for this year’s challenge under my belt, I’ll meet you here tomorrow for Day 2! Exciting!

Monty X

[Pic is from here]

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