I observe people wearing their Fitbit bands and silently smirk. Who needs to count their steps, for heaven’s sake?
Just walk, run, dance, skip, jump….MOVE.
But when my daughter asks me what I want for my birthday, I point to the beautiful Fitbit-like bracelet she wears on her wrist. It’s a thin elegant gold band with a large moonstone in the center and a tiny crystal on either side. Continue reading
I see her hips move
Swinging back and forth to the music
I think she’s lonely, standing there,
In front of a pretty man named Dick Clark
Swinging her arms back and forth
Steam swaying over the long flat board
Clothes smelling freshly flattened
I want to dance with the fun people
On the TV, but there is no room
For fun, with the iron, and the board
And my mother, swinging her hips
And sighing, as loud as the iron hisses.
roughwighting 