Back when Smith Magazine made Six-Word Memoirs all the rage, my inner wordsmith went into action. But it was my now departed friend Kevin who dashed off mine without a thought:
Zen chick with a Jersey edge.
I adore that.
Today, a bit anxious about a few things, I took to the waterfront with a book delivered to my door just a few days ago: Thirst by Mary Oliver.
First, I am a better person for having read it.
Second, much like the feeling of another uttering my Six-Word Memoir, Oliver has written in her poem “Messenger” a most apt description of my purpose:
… Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
I stand before you in that place.
Again.
