I’m writing them for two reasons: to help put my experiences in perspective and to purge myself of any residual compost.
Since it is good therapy, you are invited to join me, post your link in comments and I’ll be sure to drop by.
Let it begin:
What does freedom mean to you? There was a commercial on television a long time ago about being a sprite; and the star, if there’s such a thing in a commercial, would do something wacky and fun. It seemed from then on I saw spritely folk everywhere and admired their quirkiness. Sometimes when I let myself I feel like a sprite; the sense of freedom and well being filled me up to bursting. My son was raised by one wacky, free spirit that no one, including family truly understood; of course being understood, is not a prerequisite for all relationships.
I don’t know if you recall the commercials I’m referring to, but the ad man that came up with it was a brilliant soul. What kind of wacky? Uhm, like a guy stealing a flower off a café table and putting in his lapel to get a girl’s attention; or a young woman splashing her face with a sprinkle of water, so she would look like she carried a heavy box up a long flight of stairs, tempting some men to rescue her. I’m sure I’m butchering the images, but the sentiment of crazy wacky harmless fun was the basis of each and every spot. People, not fooled at all by the stunt, would smile, knowingly; and I would smile too.
Later I noticed that they were all around me. Some were the kind that ran backwards while waving at a friend across the street and wanted to show off a little; or a father’s soft shoeing that made his child smile; or a stranger that handed out flowers just because. They set a wonderful example. Inside I think there is a sprite in all of us that is dying to act out. Thankfully, these lovely, lovely people bring it out this out in me.
I’ve always felt better when behaving in a spritely fashion. I was dancing in the grocery store just the other day—an old song from my youth started to play and I went with it. Bossman, my lucky son, was with me; and I give him credit, he didn’t turn away or pretend he didn’t know me; instead, he just laughed with me. It felt good. Lucky for me I find sprites on Twitter too, and do my fair share of spritely tweets as @emaginette—especially on Weird or Wacky Wednesdays.
There is blood and there is family, and sometimes one has little to do with the other. You can find family members, or people that you are in sync with by being a sprite. It creates a magical playtime like when we were kids; it knocks down barriers, and builds friendships. How about you, are you a sprite? I invite you to dance in your grocery store with your child and find out.