Jungle Love…

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “By Heart.”

Blogging 101

The Question to everyone’s answer is usually to ask where they’ve been…

These were the words that immediately came to mind when I read this prompt, followed by, “Jungle love, you’re driving me mad, you’re making me crazy, crazy….”  A song from “The Steve Miller Band”.  No, it is not my favorite song, nor is this my favorite band, but I have listened to it quite a bit years ago.  I went out and bought the CD a couple of months ago while trying to add music to my mp3 player.   (It gets old listening to the same songs on every walk!)  When the words actually hit me, I wasn’t walking, I was dancing around my room.  I was trying to fold laundry at that moment, but as usual, I put on some music and the next thing I know, time has gone by, the laundry remains unfolded, the music ends and I stand in the silence, staring at the clock asking myself what happened to the time?

There I go again… As I was saying, I heard the words, “The Question to everyone’s answer, is usually to ask where they’ve been…”  True, very true.   For example, my accent is my answer to where I grew up, which would be Boston.  Of course that is a very top surface example, and that isn’t really what those words brought to mind for me.  It was more a case of the way people behave, what they like to eat, how they do things.  If you pay enough attention, you can see where a person has been.  It is a little bit like furniture shopping and bare with me on this, it is absolute sense I am going to make, I think…

Way back before I ever had any money at all to walk into a furniture store and buy anything just because I wanted it, I never understood how the sales people knew what was in my wallet.  I came to believe that these people could actually smell money, and I did not smell like money, because I didn’t have any.  The experience of furniture shopping became exasperating and I guess you could almost say embarrassing.  I learned to dislike these people intensely for their lack of patience, or their total avoidance of a person who came in the door without the aroma of dollar signs.

Moving forward a few years, my life had changed and the vultures of expensive furniture stores seemed to become even more loathsome to me considering now when I walked in the door they greeted me as though I were some long time friend stopping by for tea.  I admit, there were times I would walk extra slow, considering every detail I otherwise would ignore, just to make “my conniving little”,  oh excuse me, my new best friend make up for the times they seemed to have forgotten.

The point to all of this?  My life has changed once again and I have learned that furniture sales people can’t smell money at all.  They are only looking for the answer to my question, or the question to my answer.  “Have I been to the bank?”  “Well, yes in fact I have been to the bank!  Not recently, but I have been there…”

I’ve been a lot of places.  Those places are my experiences, my experiences make up so much of who I am, just like you.   Did you ever wonder how you let people know where you have been?

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