January 23, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day's gift.)
This morning I began my day with stretches and groans. It’s a great way to begin the day and a familiar scene:
“Ahhhhhhhh,” I purr and stretch. A raspy alphabet unfolds as I extend my arms and legs in all directions, shedding the blanket and exposing a foot. I feel a tug back on the blanket in the other direction. I tug back, unwilling to move beyond the space of the moment. “Aahruuuuahrgh!” David replies.
“It shouldn’t end in a g,” I critique. “Groans should not have a hard sound at the end. It’s too final.” David bellows more primal pleasure. “How do you spell that?” I ask.
“A a h r u u u u u a h r g h,” he answers. “It ends in an h…a silent h.”
“But then it would have an f sound,” I object. “And that ending…it’s not right for something so visceral.”
“Aaaaaaaoooeeeuuuuuoooouuuaaaoooooeeeahhhhh,” I sigh. I stretch again.
As if it might allow us to hold the intangible, I create a definition. “A groan is the sound of sliding vowels propelled by guttural clicks foreign to our alphabet. Groans stretch out with the body, reach into corners and beyond. They express joy, release cobwebs from the mind and float possibilities on their sounds.”
“Want to continue this thread later?” asks David, already dozing again. I stretch my face into silly smile, understanding that definitions are not an end but a beginning.
Today’s gift is the joyful release of stretches and groans.
You can read my other posts on this project here: