This morning as I cooked eggs, I told my sons my writing prompt was “shimmer.”
“What’s shimmer mean to you?” I asked.
“How about the reflection of light on water?” asked one son.
“Or the iridescence of a soap bubble?” offered the other.
“How about the rainbows on the walls from your prism?” added the first.
I loved their input, but my mind went to oil spills and penguins in sweaters. Oh this land we use and abuse. Oh this mind that often seeks the darkest things.
I went through the rest of my day pondering “shimmer.” We drove to the city, passing rivers and ponds. The sunlight reflected on ripples in a beautiful way. It did not shimmer. Nothing shimmered for me today, once my mind found murky water.