Words are cheap, very very cheap. A dime a dozen. So I buy them
up and spend them foolishly. I swim in them like Scrooge McDuck’s millions,
relishing the glory of owning a whole language. Mine, all mine. Sometimes I am
heedlessly generous and throw them off the rooftops to whoever might catch
them, often to see them ground into the dirt by careless boots. But yet I am
lavish with my words; hosting feasts so full of words that they spill off the
table in a gluttonous display of literary wealth. I am filthy rich in words and
I long to share them with those I love and treasure almost as much as my
treasured letters.
They are my one gift, my one talent; an ability to create
vast sculptures of words, precarious and tall as trees. Not an author; that
word just a tad beyond my price range. Really more wordsmith; grimy and dirty
with the effort of swinging all those heavy words together. Sweaty and satisfied with my
word walls and sentence structures. Mostly satisfied.
Mostly. Because then come days like today. Todays. Gray and lonely days when I would give up every last
word. Every one. Even the rare and beautiful adjectives and the vital verbs. The noisy nouns. Hand them all
over and live in a world of silence. Spend every single one if only to gain 1 long and lasting
hug.
Yeah, just like that.
good thing you have a lot of good huggers over there. - Catherine
ReplyDeleteThey are quite skilled in the hugging arts, so yes, I am very lucky there!
DeleteOh my, this post resonated with me. I love words, too, but sometimes I get so sick of how my brain wants to use them ALL THE TIME to explain the world around me. Silence would be a nice change of pace. To just be, to just experience the experience . . .
ReplyDeleteIronically, though, this is so incredibly well written, Erin! I suspect you can't escape wordsmith-ing.
Words are sometimes all we have to hug with, so I don't hate them .Sometimes I do wish they would take a break from shouting in my head...... :)
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