When the intercom at the doctor’s office said, “operating room one is ready,” I imagined it was for me – that I would go into the sterile room and the doctors would remove the lump in my throat and replace the emptiness in my chest with something, anything that would fill the hole.
The giant crocodile guards the mote. I take comfort in that.
Still, I have been betrayed by the two youngsters.
Only moments before I, the former queen, had taken the royal noodle and knighted them. I addressed them formally, calling them “Sirs”, then watched as they leaped into the concrete pool, both with smiles on their young faces.
Pleased to have done my duty by making two boys happy, I settled upon my noodle horse.
“It’s a great stallion,” I said, peddling my legs in the water.
Sir Paddy, the younger one of only 5 years, scoffed. He threw an invisible something my direction.
“Now,” he said. “You are riding a snail.”
The nerve of that rascal!
“How could you?” I demanded.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, Sir Paddy wasn’t finished with me yet. “Whoosh. And you are now a chicken.”
How quickly one can be thrown from greatness into insignificance.
I bwok, bwoked in a pitiful and timid display as I tread the water at a snails pace.
Seven- year-old Sir Russ (the one who taught me what a sarcosuchus was in the first place) had another idea. Poof. “You are now a dragon chicken.”
Things were looking up.
I flew off my snail, flapped my wings with enough force to swell the pool. My bwoks roared. Fire erupted from my beak with enough heat to put the ninety-seven degree Texas heat to shame.
Quickly, before the two tricksters had any more ideas, I flapped out of the pool toward my water bottle and for a bit of respite.
Because, occasionally, grandmother dragon chickens need their rest.
“The world is my oyster” means the world is yours to enjoy. Happiness is at your fingertips. Such a positive statement. Or is it?
Yes, there might be a pearl inside but an oyster is hard to open. Even Pistol from Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor (who coined the phrase), was ready to use his sword to steal his fortune (get to the pearl).
Well, we can’t steal happiness.
An oyster is hard to open.
I suppose we could fork out the $50+ bucks for an oyster machine on Amazon. But that would be like having our joy handed to us on a silver platter at the cost of no effort.
An oyster is hard to open.
To start with, you have to have the right too kind of knives and a durable, cut resistant glove. Metaphorically, you need to have power and a thick skin.
Do we agree that opening our oyster to find the pearl is not an easy task?
But aren’t the best-reached goals the ones reached with grit and determination?
Although some of the oysters I managed to open over the years had no treasure inside, I still managed to collect many pearls. I hope you have, too. And probably like me, some were harder to obtain than others. Were they worth the effort?
Let’s toast to our pearls, past, present and future.