It's been quite some time since I've written a Sunday Scribblings post, but the prompts over the last few weeks have been tickling my muse. I've finally got a few minutes and thought I'd dig in and see what she produces when I let her loose.
After several minutes, the grumbling begins, occasional and quiet at first, so that only I can hear it. Inside the churning is slight and bearable. As I shake out sheets and tuck in corners, I consider food, what to eat, what my body would like today, now, for this meal.
My stomach persists in its demands and then other body parts join in. We are hungry, my head tells me, aching a bit as I bend over to pick up a pair of shoes. We need to eat, my mouth says, salivating so much I have to swallow before hanging up my shirt. Feed us, my stomach screams, gurgling so loudly my cat lifts her head from the bed and meows.
OK, I relent. I am hungry. My body has spoken. I must feed it now, bless it with nourishment, treat it with respect.