amber rahim

Chronic illness: the parts we don't talk about

38 words

4 Comments

I turn 38 this week yet for some reason I have already been thinking that I was 38 for a year now. I rarely feel my actual age (or even act it) and I like this fluid relationship I have with age. It allows me to avoid the “growing older” drama that society and the media tries so very hard to draw us into. I can find my own dramas all by myself so this is one area of my life where I don’t need any help.

So in honour of this occasion I thought I would try to write something about myself in 38 words. I think it only took me 38 seconds to do it so don’t get your hopes up. The point is, I achieved my goal: 38 words.

(for fellow pedants out there, the title is included in the word count and I count “that’s” as one word. What am I revealing about myself?)

My Life in Thirty Eight Words

Little feet, little toes

Bigger boobs and pointy nose.

That’s the way the outside goes.

Fertile soil for a brain,

Plant the seeds, let it rain.

That’s how I come alive again.

ok, you can’t google images for bigger boobs and planting seeds (well, you can but I wouldn’t) and I’m not very good at drawing so here is a Monet that caught my eye.

the-artist-s-family-in-the-garden.jpg!xlSmall

4 thoughts on “38 words

  1. Love this. Happy birthday in advance, Amber! I wish I too will have bigger boobs at 38 šŸ™‚

  2. I love this Amber. I really love your poem. Fertile soil for fertile mind. Yes.
    And of course I love Monet !!!
    I reread your Blog introduction of yourself. You have done everything you set out to do and I thank you for helping me in the tightening cage of my illness that I never thought would happen. Thank you for your loving support.

    • Sonja, I hope that as that cage tightens around your body your mind, spirit and soul can soar to greater heights than ever before. I troubles me to know that this illness and circumstances are so hard on you but your spirit is strong.
      Sometimes I feel like a Monet, when I look to closely I only see blobs. It’s only when I take a step back that I see the real picture.

  3. Pingback: 39 words for 39 years | amber rahim

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