I woke up on the verge of crying this morning. Don’t ask me why or what I dreamed about because I don’t remember. A predawn run and its accompanying endorphin squad soon brought the potential flood under control. The upshot of the odd start to the day?

I realized we should be kinder to Silly Putty.

Yes, the mind works in mysterious and incredibly strange ways. Is it more bizarre to wake up crying or to suddenly develop a compassion for a non-sentient, viscous substance that compels us to play with it, mold it, stretch it, bounce it, break it, and press newspaper ink onto it?

That is a question. (Whether or not it deserves an answer is another non-grammatical subject altogether.)

Why this sudden campaign to end Silly Putty abuse?

Even though I don’t know the precise reason I woke up in the middle of an emotional rain cloud, when I find myself there, the heart is usually involved, and I don’t mean “a blood-pumping organ in an animate being.” I mean the seat of our emotions—that intangible ticker that keeps us putting one foot in front of the other each day, even though some days we feel it has been played with, re-molded, stretched thin, bounced silly, broken into a gazillion pieces, and impressed with the ink of so many relationships it’s now a gray ball we no longer recognize.

Hearts and Silly Putty—they are both resilient, but they go through a lot, don’t they?

That’s why I think we should be kinder to Silly Putty.

Photo Credit: Public Domain|Wikipedia|Hengsheng Huang