Shift

Like a hand, wrist, elbow, shoulder switching gears, at a table. This, the sound effect I imagine in montage, looking back. The shifts in conversation: overlapping, seemingly mutually exclusive, perfect sense, deeper.

"Don't even think about the film 2012."

Instead, I laughed to myself and figured it's a good thing I'm getting married next year.

Shift.

Breathing. Consciously taking breaths so I can take in what you're saying. I've done well today; I took a risk and had everything to gain.

Shift.

"Are you catching the bus?"

"I only got as far as 'shoulders' really..."

Shift.

A child who follows you and an imaginary one who followed me; reminding me what self-worth does for a person (it's wonderful); blue eyes, brown eyes, blue whales.

Shift. Shift. Shift.

Occassionally, I try to make sense of the shifts and become overwhelmed with how to make meaning. Then I think about the connection deepening, without need of explanation. It makes sense, and I look forward to the shifting.