profusion

Okay, sulky self. You woke up still sick, but you might as well get out of bed. Put on your sneakers and your hat. The day is warm and there’s an entire world out there to see.

The word of the day is profusion. Not officially or anything. It’s been years since you had a word-of-the-day calendar. But it popped into your head as soon as you walked across the street and moseyed past the neighbor’s garden.

A profusion of dried hydrangea blossoms.

A profusion of sullen brown daisies.

Remember the summer, when you took picture after picture of tiny flowers in the grass? They made you think of stars at your feet.

Profusion is a basic principle of the universe. Think blades of grass.

Think grains of sand.

Think mussel shells, and waves breaking one after another, like a host of second chances.

Forget the profusion of tissues. Forget the profusion of teacups.

Forget the profusion of tasks you’ve been putting off in order to indulge your infant-like need for sleep.

Remember the profusion of candles on Jade’s birthday cake last night. You made it even though it might have been wiser to nap. Never mind wiser. The word of the day is profusion.

You miss the summer, when you weren’t sick for a month straight. You miss how pretty your feet looked. You miss long workouts and not needing nine hours of sleep a night.

But still there are stars at your feet.

Little seeds and pods with names unknown to you.

A profusion of colored leaves.

A profusion of mums, sassy and bright.

A profusion of blossoms mingling with brown leaves.

Profusion is a basic principle of the universe. So is surrender.

Fallen leaves gathering on the sidewalk.

A profusion of bare branches.

In a day or a week, your voice will be back. You’ll resume your customary levels of productivity. Normal will feel like heaven.

Try to remember that profusion was the word today. It wasn’t easy, but you saw abundance everywhere.