When I woke up this morning, the sentence streaming over and over again through my brain was this:
‘Fraid to put your meanie and crockett in the snogg???
It sounds like spam, doesn’t it? Now even my brain is registered to receive junk mail. Here’s what else I woke up thinking:
On a street across campus from here, a teenage girl stops walking to look at herself in a dark window. She thinks she looks okay. Three steps later she stumbles and knows that God is punishing her for vanity. A seven year old boy is sitting in Circle at the YMCA summer camp, waiting to hear what the day’s activities will be. He rubs his index finger against his thumb over and over. He knows the perspiration he creates is magical and if he rubs his fingers together often enough he won’t have to play kickball today. In a house in North Berkeley a toddler screams every time his mother leaves the room. Every time she steps out of his sight she is dead forever and he’ll have to get used to the new mother They send in. He finds the endless adjustments exhausting.
Don’t be afraid. Put in your meanie. Crockett too. There’s plenty of room here in the snogg, plenty of room for everything.