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Crabwalk

September 30, 2007

At 4 a.m., your shell rested. I felt it arrive next to me, brittle and sandy. In the morning, shortly after I made eggs for us, you dashed toward the front door without stopping to eat. I grabbed your hand, but you kept going, skittering sideways toward the tide of the day. When I made the bed, I took some of the sand from the sheets, put it in my pocket, and rubbed the grains between my fingers until the skin split open. My fingers stung, but all things considered, that was the least of my problems.

5 comments

  1. not to continually focus on me, but seriously, genie, the blame for my whole getting-nothing-done schtick – which i have become incredibly good at – falls smack dab on your baby wallaby feet. this does not help. but, love it love it love it. keep ’em coming!


  2. and, i LOVE your blog title. could not be more fitting.


  3. Oh, thank you, Lotus Girl…it’s a little bit of a new adventure, but I find those are the best kinds, eh?


  4. yes, new adventures are the best… i’m looking forward to spying on yours… :)


  5. […] and to do so in a format that is ever-so-compatible with my crazy life. So one day, I wrote the first story and launched the […]



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