Sometimes I let people wipe off their muddy boot complaints and sticky gum demands onto me. Sometimes I get smelly and rotten and forgotten after a cold, wet, and whiny winter. Sometimes I am so bitter cold and stubborn stiff. Sometimes I am dry and brittle from overuse, but I hold strong in harsh unsympathetic winds.
The pushy wind might get under me a little bit, but I will not move. I might get a little shaken, or gnarled, but I will hold my shape. I will. I WILL! But, over the disagreeing time, my "WELCOME" fades, my quills get dull, and my corners stiffly curl. Soon, no one even wipes their raunchy boots on me anymore. I become nearly worthless, and I am eventually laid over the railing to get my ineffectuality out of the way.
Suddenly! Relief! I sigh into the stretch and bend of this little vacation from scrubbing, pounding, and weather. I gaze calmly at the world through this easy freedom, and gently flap with the careless breeze. But after just hanging out at all day, day after day, and I get bored. I begin to feel more and more useless.
Now what do I do? Am I even a doormat anymore? I guess I'll just wait here for someone. But where is everyone? Where are all the muddy soles? I guess I'm the only one that's muddy and grimy and worn out.
Suddenly, just when I am at the peak of helplessness, I am shaken back to life. I get walloped with bluntness. I get hosed with sustenance. I get honestly flung against the ground. It hurts to get hammered back into shape, but it feels good to be useful again.
My WELCOME might be worn, but my intent is clear again. My bristles are sharpened and ready, and I am wise with experience. I feel ready to scrape. I might get worn out, but at least I know I can always rest up and be useful again.
xo
Alli
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