I need to have at hand one of those wise old women who can come up with a crazy theory as to why things happen.
You know the kind who say when your hip hurts on a Tuesday on the fourth week of the month it means it’s time to plant the broccoli? That kind, I need one. Maybe she would tell me that when a billy-goat shows up on your lawn on a Monday that maybe you shouldn’t dive into rehabbing your kitchen. Or that maybe I should look into Goat Milk Recipes…
Or maybe that I shouldn’t joke around about wanting a cow, a horse and a puppy for my birthday… because with my luck I’ll end up with another animal to take care of. *peeks out window to make sure said billy-goat has not come back*
She’d probably yell at me for being so flip floppy, and not knowing what direction to turn in almost everything I do. Because being so flip floppy almost always leads to stray billy’s in your yard.
Perhaps she’d shame me for wasting talents lately, or applaud me on taking a different path. She might tell me it’s about time I didn’t waste so many moments in front of a tiny screen… or she might scream that I’ve been wasting a precious opportunity…
And then she’d bake me some awful, old world recipe cake, and she’d wrap up a roll of pennies for me, all heads up. And she’d sing happy birthday to me, in an aged cracky voice, and remind me, that no matter what, I’ll find that right path, despite all odds.
At the end of her song she’d wrap up by yelling at me about how my health will suffer from eating too much cake and remind me to heed the billy goat’s warning…
I need one of them old women. And I need that stray billy-goat to not come back.
(yes that’s all I got)