Sometimes My Hoops Just Sit in the Corner


Sometimes My Hoops Just Sit in the Corner

General JaMocha is my go-to hoop, strong, and durable, a two-pound maroon circle with a strip of silver shimmer.  When he spins, he reflects light like medals on a maroon lapel. He is the general, being called to duty more times than any other hoop, seeing more battle than the rest. He’s been scraped up on pavements, nicked on cement, wrestled in the rain.  He’s skimmed every body of water, skidding across oceans, lakes, and rivers, leaned against patios, beds, curbs, and left too close to fires. JaMocha has been through it all, my Archangel, my guardian and keeper of all things I balance in life, but he is sitting in the corner. All my hoops are sitting there, leaning against the wall, waiting for me.  Any of them would be happy to get attention, and more than thrilled to give it, but I’m unready, unprepared to be reminded that the world is round, that the cosmos are round, that time and circle of life is real and moves with rotations like spinning tops on a kitchen linoleum. Maybe today I say, let it swing around me and soothe me like I know it will.