I Like the Edge

Woke up thinking about it. I like the edge.

When I sleep, I stay very near the edge of the bed. I like being able to fling out one leg or an arm to cool off when I get too warm. Something about being near the edge lets me know exactly where I am--I can feel the border.

I like the edges of brownies in a pan. I always choose the crispy edges of lasagna that have those burnt little bits of cheese clinging to the sides of the pan. When a pizza or cake are cut into serving sizes, the outside edges are most appealing. I even sit on the edge when I attend an event, choosing a seat on the aisle. I hate being boxed in.

My husband's partner says, "If you're not living on the edge, you're taking up too much room."

I like the edge. I like knowing where I am in space, being able to quickly move away from the crowd. Keeping touch with the boundary means I am ready to leap out of the box at a moment's notice, jumping into new territory. Safety in the middle doesn't last long for me. I fight against the middle, never satisfied to build camp. Give me room to move, room to break free, room to leap when the timing is right.

I like the edge.


(c) 2011Sheri Smith Bertolini