Ideas

"I got an idea." Four of the best words ever spoken.

Even when compared to "Jennifer Garner is here", "time for your meds", and "your giant burrito sir", it ranks among the top.

Ah, the idea.

Voiced only at the confluence of confidence and disregard, it emerges very infrequently, often times tentatively, furtively. Rare. Prized. Fragile, formed on substances that can quickly dissolve once exposed to light and oxygen vaporizing right before your eyes.

In a room, they are regarded like heirlooms, presented with reverence and care, white gloved. We desire them to be liked, even loved. Like parents, eager to show them off, yet deathly afraid of how they will be received. Giddy when selected. Hurt when rejected, certain the others just don't get it. You quickly pack it back away careful not to bruise it. After all, we're given only so many, never knowing when, or if, the next one will come. Given.

The good ones can't be cultivated. Like synthesized diamonds, they shine, but the people you care about knowing will do just that, know. More born then made, they are a currency to be traded, valuable only to a select few, worthless outside the smallest of circles.

Today I am an idea merchant, wares displayed in the store window for all to see. Dutifully, I will tend them. Browse all you want, hold them up to the light, flick the rind to check for ripeness. Buy or place them back on the shelf. It doesn't matter.

I have inventory. I feel rich. For now.