Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Like Rain on a Window

I am a very lucky girl. I read and think for a living. I get to wander through thoughts, see where they take me, and watch how people respond to them. I write stories or imagine places and color in details with tiny brushstrokes and wonder whether folks will notice them.

Sometimes I put my heart right out there. Tears form in my eyes. They gather first like drops on a rainy car window, then run fast down through my fingers onto the keys into cyberspace. Those drops are the feelings behind the words that refuse to be separated from what I’m saying. The feelings don’t want the words to stand alone, perhaps to be misunderstood. That’s brave of the feelings. I like that about them. I like that about me.

It’s never boring to write. It’s often trying, testing, and tiring. It’s also always worth getting up each morning to see what adventure I will find. It’s always good to go to bed. I’m always dead, brain-dead tired.

At night, though, at night is my own thinking time. When I think at night, I think about the stars. I think about life. I think about my life, your life, life in general. I think of how people treat people. I think about fairy tales and heroes. I wish there were more of those. I wonder why there isn’t more compassion. I wonder why I don’t do more, see more, learn more. I wonder why I don’t do less.

I think about the promise of a new day tomorrow and a good sleep tonight. Before I sleep at night, I think of how the dark sky is like a blanket over the whole world.

I think of all the children who have no one to tuck them in at night. I ask the sky to tuck them in, and the stars to watch over them.

I wish them all good-night.

One little tear finds its way down to my cheek like rain down a car window, to my pillow.

I blow gently on it so the air can carry it with my feelings to them.
−me strauss Letting me be

14 comments:

taorist said...

A Good night to you too, Ms. Liz

ME Strauss said...

Hello, sweet taorist,
How nice of you to bid me a good night. Hope all is well with you and your beautiful blog.
Liz

El Charolastra said...

wow....so...cheesy.

bradford said...

when I tell people I think (like you) they tell me I think too much and try to push meditative time-out but the observations seem less rather than more appreciative. What you put into your writing expands craft with heART - thanks

ME Strauss said...

thank you Nathaniel,
For saviing your best words for me.

smiles,
Liz

ME Strauss said...

Hi Braford,
Good to see you again.
I'm not sure what brough me to last night's writing. I juse felt that the words had to be written.

Liz

Trée said...

I've read this post twice and think I will read it a third time. I'm intriqued by this concept of separation. I need to explore the gap a little more, to ask why and where this separation comes from. Somehow, that one word, that one concept makes me wonder why I fear it so.

ME Strauss said...

Hi Tree,
My what an interesting response to this little writing. I hope you'll write more when you find out what it is that you see in this.

W. J. St. Christopher said...

That was lovely. Tonight, I'm being tucked in by the sky.

ME Strauss said...

Hi W. J.
So am I. Maybe we'll be looking at the same stars together.

Liz

Anonymous said...

My immediate reaction on seeing the photo was to think about a recent story in the local news: kids were using aluminum baseball bats to kill homeless men.

Little monsters!

E

ME Strauss said...

Oh E!
What a sad thing to have to remember. I'm sorry that photo made you recall that. It's not a happy photo to begin with.

:(
Liz

dog1net said...

Liz,
Ah, but what would writers be without the backdrop of stars illuminating ideas to come. Thus nights for me are always welcomed. When I settle in, I usually have one or two books, and a yellow note pad. For me it's a good way to wind down and wake up refreshed.
Sweet dreams. . .
Scot

ME Strauss said...

Oh Scot,
What a lovely comment and a lovely thought. Thank you for that. I'm just going to sit here and enjoy it fot a while. :)

Sweet dreams . . . two very nice words.
Liz