Muscle Memory

Last night after work I came home and needed a break.

A break from thinking and feeling and being frustrated and being anxious and being nervous.


So I put my old gross crocs, an old beat up pair of shorts and went out to harvest food out of my garden. Someone in my neighborhood must be feeding the birds like crazy because there are about 100 times more birds trying to eat my salad greens than there ever have been. As a result we draped netting over the top of my garden. So now, when I go in I have to crawl on all fours to stay under the bird netting.

At first I thought having to crawl around would be totally horrible. I thought it would hurt my back and scrape up my knees.

But guess what? I totally love it. It reminds me of the tent that my sister got for her birthday one year. It had a fitted sheet on the bottom so you could make it right on top of your mattress and always feel like you are sleeping in a cave.

It reminds me of when I was 10 and would climb into the closet under the stairs to read the Chronicles of Narnia by the light of my favorite pink flashlight.

It reminds me of climbing into my 4 year old niece Charlotte's pink princess tent while we play make believe.


Turns out that almost every memory I have of crawling into small places is warm and familiar and friendly.