Brown

Brown play dough.

You know that feeling that you get, when you crack open a new pack of play dough?  All the colors await you, sitting nicely in their appropriate containers. There they sit. Smooth. Cylindrical,  perfectly formed to fit the tube in which they arrived to you in. 

You know it will never go back in that way. It will never be perfect again. It will never again be untouched or flawless. 

But, still....you take it out and play. 

You roll it, and slam it, cut it into bits, roll it into balls. Try to create something prettier than that perfect cylindrical product that you found just moments ago.  

It's inevitable. 

Every time.

No matter how hard you try.

No matter how much you say you won't. 

You mix the colors. 

You do it in hopes that the masterpiece you are left with will be worth it. 

Sometimes it is. Sometimes you make all the right choices, and its a wonderful day.

Sometimes,  its just poop-brown play dough. 

Sometimes, you need to try again.

Figure out where you went wrong. 

What shouldn't mix again. 

The next time,  you're more cautious. 

You stop. 

You think about the choices youre making. 

Because you don't want poop again. 

It's funny, really.

Whether we are five, twenty-five, thirty-five, or seventy-five.... the allure of play dough is always there. To mold it. Shape it. Squeeze it into something new. 

It may seem juvenile. But, maybe it's just practice. 

Play dough is just doing its job. 

Stress relieving. 

Reminding us to slow down. 

Make wise decisions.

Or, we get poop. 

And have to try again.