Or perhaps I spent far too many hours in monologue with my stuffed polar bear Roxie. It was her permanent silence that was the main calming influence on an otherwise hyperactive, too often troubled young mind.
I do know that my many (I should say, countless) hours of play with my Westie puppy Presto were certainly worth every moment. At least he would reply in his own patented smart-aleck way, to my musings on the colour of some fleeting crush’s eyes or the constant erratic ness of the New England weather. I would at least find the company of his warmth, his soft fur and quick beating heart a remedy for the loneliness of the often solitude existence of my younger years.
But Roxie’s silence continues, as she stands by my bedside. She is now silver-grey with the passage of time, but still very much the recipient of my ritual monologues. I have at times wished that I had saved these little one-sided talks via recorder. Perhaps I still could, for the benefit of an (imaginary) lovely online audience. “Dear Roxie” could be quite a popular podcast. I think that my childish rambles would have a certain appeal...
I’ve always dabbled with the idea of a podcast, recorded a few episodes on my computer, but never did anything with them. But is it suitable for human ears? I mean, Roxie doesn’t mind my rambling on. Some do find my voice appealing to listen to, but for hours on end? Perhaps not. It’s far more likely I make my way with blogging.
Oh, how many delight in the entertainment of my numerous forays into poetry and reflective prose. I ask my audience so many questions, and they never hesitate to answer in their own, often enchanting and elucidating ways. (This I say most sarcastically.) In any case, the attention is greatly appreciated.
I see now that my trivial pursuits of imagination and make-believe are not for naught. They make fine material for the entertainment of so many a wandering mind.