Angela Townsend
The Goofus Saves the World
The jelly is everywhere.
We may be scraping along the dry toast of a Wednesday, majestic as burlap, when it declares itself.
What is that object on the kitchen floor?
What is that mystery, glistening phantasmagorical on the linoleum?
What is that literal odd ball?
You must find out.
In an instant, the laundry is demoted. The email to the Water & Sewer Authority must wait. The angst trapezed between “already” and “not yet” drops without a net.
You crouch beside the dishwasher. The gelatinous orb glows at you.
The orb snickers.
The orb is a vitamin D softgel.
You have not discovered an egg from Shelob’s lair, but you have been found out. Do not lodge a protest. Do not fight the truth.
You, under your rings of responsibility, are still a goofus.
This is the best news since the return of the Choco Taco.
Duty and dust have failed to solemnify you. You are the same child who leaned out the car window to see if a line of rainbow-helmeted bicyclists were Skittles on a quest. You are the explorer who checked hotel armoires for Narnia. You are the correspondent who sent floral notes to the Tooth Fairy, sensitive at six to unsung heroes.
You are the little one no less little for occupying taller territory. You use a four-color pen on your tax worksheet. You wonder why no one seems to notice that Margaritaville is earnest and poignant. You would rather inspire a FunkoPop than win an Oscar.
The exclamation points between your eyebrows keep you out of trouble. You stop yourself from putting tin foil in the microwave just to watch it burn. You resist putting circus peanuts on people’s chairs. You will wait a year to see if you still want the Ant-Man tattoo on your instep.
You will wait for surprises between coffee refills and deadlines. You will make surprises for the sleepy-eyed and suffering.
You will make this world glisten and whistle for those too old to get up for odd balls.
The jelly is everywhere, but there are risks involved. The world doesn’t know where to shelve a spoon-carrying goofus. You pick up softgels and hard questions, ladybugs and butter knives. You are nobody’s fool but no stranger to innocence. Your puns and your pleasure threaten the burnt and the burdened.
So you walk softly, Hello Kitty flashlight in hand. There is no bravado in your beam. You are one beggar showing the others where to find comic cosmic crumbs. You are vitamin G raising the recommended daily allowance of goofing.
You are gratitude disguised as curiosity, a sticky-fingered child taking the pulse of joy.
You are as essential as oxygen and as sweet as jam, underestimated and overqualified for the serious business of adulthood.
You are saving the world, in service to the Grand Comedian who makes walruses and nebulas and turnips shaped like Gene Hackman for the sheer zest of it.
The jelly is everywhere, and most are too satisfied with toast. The goofus is the EMT of the earth, an exuberance mask for the gasping and the grim. We admire the photographic memory and the polyglot, but we forget that the species survives on the strength of the stunned. It is not the impressive but the impressed, not the expert but the amazed, who break our stony ground and save our broken hearts.
May you rise for every gleam and crouch for every curiosity.
May you wonderstrike the weariness from Wednesdays and worlds.
May you effervesce us back to the bubbles of our birthright.
The jelly is everywhere.
As development director at Tabby’s Place: A Cat Sanctuary, Angela Townsend has the privilege of bearing witness to mercy for all beings. Angela holds an MDiv from Princeton Theological Seminary and BA from Vassar College. She has had Type 1 diabetes for thirty-two years, talks to her mother every day, and delights in the moon. @fullyalivebythegrace on Instagram and @TheWalkingTulip on Twitter.
We may be scraping along the dry toast of a Wednesday, majestic as burlap, when it declares itself.
What is that object on the kitchen floor?
What is that mystery, glistening phantasmagorical on the linoleum?
What is that literal odd ball?
You must find out.
In an instant, the laundry is demoted. The email to the Water & Sewer Authority must wait. The angst trapezed between “already” and “not yet” drops without a net.
You crouch beside the dishwasher. The gelatinous orb glows at you.
The orb snickers.
The orb is a vitamin D softgel.
You have not discovered an egg from Shelob’s lair, but you have been found out. Do not lodge a protest. Do not fight the truth.
You, under your rings of responsibility, are still a goofus.
This is the best news since the return of the Choco Taco.
Duty and dust have failed to solemnify you. You are the same child who leaned out the car window to see if a line of rainbow-helmeted bicyclists were Skittles on a quest. You are the explorer who checked hotel armoires for Narnia. You are the correspondent who sent floral notes to the Tooth Fairy, sensitive at six to unsung heroes.
You are the little one no less little for occupying taller territory. You use a four-color pen on your tax worksheet. You wonder why no one seems to notice that Margaritaville is earnest and poignant. You would rather inspire a FunkoPop than win an Oscar.
The exclamation points between your eyebrows keep you out of trouble. You stop yourself from putting tin foil in the microwave just to watch it burn. You resist putting circus peanuts on people’s chairs. You will wait a year to see if you still want the Ant-Man tattoo on your instep.
You will wait for surprises between coffee refills and deadlines. You will make surprises for the sleepy-eyed and suffering.
You will make this world glisten and whistle for those too old to get up for odd balls.
The jelly is everywhere, but there are risks involved. The world doesn’t know where to shelve a spoon-carrying goofus. You pick up softgels and hard questions, ladybugs and butter knives. You are nobody’s fool but no stranger to innocence. Your puns and your pleasure threaten the burnt and the burdened.
So you walk softly, Hello Kitty flashlight in hand. There is no bravado in your beam. You are one beggar showing the others where to find comic cosmic crumbs. You are vitamin G raising the recommended daily allowance of goofing.
You are gratitude disguised as curiosity, a sticky-fingered child taking the pulse of joy.
You are as essential as oxygen and as sweet as jam, underestimated and overqualified for the serious business of adulthood.
You are saving the world, in service to the Grand Comedian who makes walruses and nebulas and turnips shaped like Gene Hackman for the sheer zest of it.
The jelly is everywhere, and most are too satisfied with toast. The goofus is the EMT of the earth, an exuberance mask for the gasping and the grim. We admire the photographic memory and the polyglot, but we forget that the species survives on the strength of the stunned. It is not the impressive but the impressed, not the expert but the amazed, who break our stony ground and save our broken hearts.
May you rise for every gleam and crouch for every curiosity.
May you wonderstrike the weariness from Wednesdays and worlds.
May you effervesce us back to the bubbles of our birthright.
The jelly is everywhere.
As development director at Tabby’s Place: A Cat Sanctuary, Angela Townsend has the privilege of bearing witness to mercy for all beings. Angela holds an MDiv from Princeton Theological Seminary and BA from Vassar College. She has had Type 1 diabetes for thirty-two years, talks to her mother every day, and delights in the moon. @fullyalivebythegrace on Instagram and @TheWalkingTulip on Twitter.