Leave it Behind and Slowly Back Away
Last night I was reading something I had scribbled down on a piece of paper and I could hardly make out my own handwriting. The note said, "I'm leaving a t..." and then there were a few letters I could not distinguish at first glance. Starting with the letter T, I assumed the missing characters made up the word "trail" but, in hindsight, I double-checked and came up with the word "trap."
What's so interesting about this is that these each represent two very different left-behind items. A "trap" is so much more belligerent and carries an entirely different connotation than a "trail" yet I could hardly distinguish between the two physically. The exercise of deciphering my own handwriting got me to thinking about the poetic ramifications each word carries with it.
Here's an interesting question to ponder. Which would you rather leave? A trail implies that you are being chased, followed, or somehow left mark on the landscape in your past. A trap is more like a loaded gun, a sharp knife, or a blind date: could come in handy, possibly save the day, but could also prove explosive and harmful if used the wrong way. You never do know exactly what you might catch in one of those, do you? And you may just end up empty-handed after the struggle. So, question for the day is, do you opt for the high risk with the huge payoff potential? Or play it safe and go for the intrigue?
I think my choice would depend upon what sort of mood I were in. I would probably opt for the "trail" if I were happy, content, waxing poetic, but I see myself as a "trap" girl when pissed off, generally upset, or maybe just looking for some excitement. Either way, I suppose, I'd be happy, so long as the dust scatters from my path and I can see my way into some hope that lies ahead. And, it follows too that, if I were somehow to manage a trap for the reclusive yet oh-so-hunkerly cabana boy, I'd be happy as a clam on the seashore.
Until next time...