writing prompt

Zoom Zoom

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

If people had taglines, what would yours be?

My blog has a tagline of A Hillbilly Diva’s Blatherings which I really like.  The blog is just that.  My thoughts on sundry things, events, etc.  It doesn’t have a strong focus other than Appalachia and my love for this place.  And diva?  Well, that goes without saying.

But do I want to use that as my tagline?  Probably not.  It doesn’t encompass all of who I am which gets me to the rub.  Am I looking for a tagline for me as a writer?  Or as an overall person? 

And that gets messy.  At least right now, my identity is so wrapped up in writing that it is hard to separate it from me.  It took me a long time to find my life’s calling and I’m not going to abandon it now.  While my writing may or may not scream Appalachia, I’m not sure I do though the diva is certainly on point.

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The Magician’s Assistant

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I am the magician’s assistant or I used to be.  I think I am on my way out.  I strut in sequins and spangles and fringe.  I wear my own top hat and stiletto heels.  Heavy eye makeup.  The men in the audience sit a little straighter when I come on stage. 

Photo by Mark Williams on Unsplash

That’s how it used to be.

The magician too has grayed at the temples.  There’s a touch of white in his neatly trimmed beard.  He is “distinguished”, “so handsome”, the ladies sit a little straighter when he bounces onto the stage – virile and larger than life, his black cape and cummerbund downplaying the beginning of his potbelly.

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Dirt and gravel and ruts and prayers

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“My road is dirt and gravel and ruts and prayers, it’s terrifying in the winter and so beautiful your heart hurts in the fullness of summer.”

I wrote those words for a digital essay I did about my house.

The same road I hate in the winter, I love this time of year — particularly early mornings when the mist is still settled in the lowlands and the tall grasses sparkle in the light of rising sun. Inevitably, there will be deer with their fawns. I forget that deer are not a daily occurrence for all folks. Beautiful creatures and the little ones too make your heart hurt with their youth and beauty. There are rabbits and I can hear the peepers in the pond. If I’m lucky, the flock of wild turkey will make an appearance. They are so ugly they are beautiful – especially the Old Tom who has lived a pugilistic life to keep his harem. He struts with pride and the ladies and their young’uns follow.

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The Prize

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Keep your eyes on the prize, they say.  My problem is I’m not sure what the prize is.  Other times I know exactly what it is.  Contentment, Happiness, Peace.  But perhaps if I achieved the prize, my life would stagnate.  Is the quest part of the achievement?  I’m happier than I’ve ever been.  Some days I’m damn near exuberant.  Other days, not so much.  Long Covid, I’m blaming.  I worry about what mutant thing that dam virus has done to my DNA or is doing to it. 

But let’s not go there.  I’ve had several nights of good sleep.  Restorative sleep.  Deep sleep.  I’m so well-rested I’m practically giddy.  What a difference sleep makes.  The world, though rainy and gloomy, is bright and shiny.  I can cope with my to-do list.  I may even conquer it.  The brain fog is still there, dammit long covid, but it too is not quite so bad.  In this merry month of May, I am hopeful and maybe that’s my real quest.

To be hopeful in this world at this time is perhaps delusional.  Things are dire and we’re going to hell in a hand basket while people shout stupid slogans or, just as bad, go on as if nothing is happening. 

But today I have hope that somehow, someway it’s all going to work out.  I think that’s the prize.

Photo by Carl Hunley Jr on Unsplash