The Key

September 27, 2011
Mornings are my favorite.
I always find myself,
Scampering through the house at 5:17 a.m.,
Waking everyone up,
And searching for things.
Looking for socks,
Or my favorite jeans…

It’s funny how I always misplace these things.
But somehow,
I never lose my keys.
My key ring is full
Of random key chains,
That have been
Donated by friends,
Found in parking lots,
Or made by my own hands.

Every morning,
At around…
6:54 a.m.,
I lock up the house,
With my key.
The key chains clatter and clang against each other,
Brush against my skin…
Give me a sense of security and stability.

Through all of the daily chaos,
The uncertainty and inconsistencies of life,
I reach into the front pocket of my backpack,
And search for my key.
At first,
I may not find it.
I panic.
But then,
It finds me.

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