The writing prompt for this weeks WAG was:
“WAG #19: Pick a Pocket” Let’s do some stalking people-watching for this one! Pick someone out of a crowd and describe what (you imagine) is in their pockets (Unless you want to be brave and ask them!) Give us both meaning and physical details, and don’t forget to let yourself be surprised. (This week’s topic inspired by my son Bear.)(read more about it here… it’s not to late to write your own!)
I’ve been staring at strangers all weekend, wondering what treasures they had in their pockets. Honestly though, adults are insufferably boring. Mostly its keys and mobile phones, loose change and a petrol receipt. How do we get there from being wild creatures with pockets full of string, magic rocks, and boiled sweets? And why?
As part of a running joke with Bear, I asked him this morning what he had in his pocket. “My tie”, he said. Quite a nice tie too, in his school colours, rolled like a cinnobun and tucked in a back pocket. He’ll probably even put it on today. Eventually. When a teacher asks him to. I’d tell him to, myself, but I avoid futility. He’d sigh and put it on, no doubt, then take it off as soon as he was out of sight of the front steps. Besides, I admire his resistance to adulthood and secretly support it.
My grandfather took to carrying boiled sweets in his pocket. I don’t remember very much about him; just that.
Why is it only at the beginning and end of our lives do we realise what’s really important enough to carry with us?