The long walk up [the hill, not a flat]

We humans try to find patterns in everything. If basic math doesn’t work, move on to algebra. Still too chaotic? Then calculus. Or fractals. Or N-space. Finally quantum physics. Yet chaos and entropy are still firmly in control of our lives. The chaos is a creative force and the entropy a destructive force. The yin and yang of the universe. Nothing we write, we ponder is original. Besides the DNA we obey, the cultural imprint is deeply embedded in all our reflexive responses.

 

This week’s prompt at Magpie Tales is:

‘We are both the Id and the Empty Well’

Carefully bundled, hat, green with a yellow pom-pom, boots, black, coat blue, navy verging on ultramarine, scarf, hand-knitted, opened this very morning, rainbow of varied yarn, all from the markdown bin, mittens, too young still for gloves, yellow to match the pom-pom flopping with every labored step up the slick slope, a choice to make, middle or top, one safe, the other thrilling, tracing the footsteps of relatives now content to sip cider and gossip in front of the snapping pine, warmed by memories, tales shared, given to each generation in turn, the spell of the hill, and a red sled, and carefully bundled, she went all the way to the top… and slid home.