In-breath

In-breath

In between the Zoom call and the phone call,
in between emptying the dishwasher and filling it up,
in between dripping fingers and puddled floor,
in between the voice that squeaks “what’s for dinner”
and the voice that groans at my response,
in between the too tall grass and gassing the car,
in between the pile of mail and pile of papers from
three separate schools,
in between their growing bodies and
three sets of needs,
in between saying to the one “time for a bath”
and gagging to the two “put on deodorant,”
in between buying packs of polar ice gum
because bribery works wonders for hygiene,
in between lining the cart with gallons of milk
and lining their plates with rainbows of food,
in between worrying at the rising price of groceries
and eyeing the slimming figures of accounts,
in between words—
I am caught unaware,
surprised by a sudden in-breath

of space.

And I am left there,
wondering—
what is in-between,
and what
is the substance
of our days?

The Prompt

If you’d like a prompt to play around with today, friends, then I offer you the simple word “between.” Notice the in-betweenness that surrounds you. Do this any way that you’d like. If you would like suggestions, here are a few to consider:

• Sense the space between your eyes and the screen on which you’re reading these words

• Imagine the space (physical and temporal) between your reading of the words and my writing of them

• Look around you, and see the between places in your current physical environment—the gap between your refrigerator and the wall, the broom that lives there, the dust that lingers between its bristles, the space between (and within) ever molecule of dust. What are the between places in your current environment?

• Pay attention to the places between places—the doorway between two rooms, the window between inside and out, that liminal moment when you aren’t quite yet in your jeans but you’re also not yet out of them. Rather than just considering this in the abstract, walk slowly from one room to another or from inside to out. Can you feel the moment when the first place ends and the second one begins? (Feel free to try this with your jeans, too, but please try not to fall over.)

• You might also flip this all on its head and consider the world with a different lens: as if space is the substance, and objects are just occasional interruptions arising in between this and that vast expanse of space. How does this change your perception?

• Or you might think of betweenness in temporal rather than physical terms. What sort of in-betweenness are you living right now? What has passed away, and what do you sense (perhaps as a hazy streak of color) on your horizon?

If you’re drawn to this latter option—focusing on liminal moments in time—then I suggest taking a moment to read these lovely words about thresholds from the late Irish poet John O’Dononhue.

What poem wants to emerge in this particular moment between moments and this space between spaces?

Whatever doorways you find yourself in, I look forward to reading what you share!