A to Z Challenge | E

E is my favourite letter for an obvious reason. So this one was extra fun.

The Words

“Ebriosity: Taken from the Latin word ebrius, meaning drunk, ebriosity is a rather elegant word for alcoholism. The actor’s career was ruined by his ebriosity.”

“Ebullient: Somebody described as ebullient is bubbling with excitement and anticipation. The word derives from the Latin word ebullire, meaning to boil or bubble. The word has existed in English since the fifteenth century and was possibly a culinary term originally before the meaning was expanded to be used figuratively to describe human characteristics. The team were in an ebullient mood in the dressing room before the final match of the season.”

“Effulgent: Anything that shines with splendour and brilliance can be described as effulgent. To effulge is to shine forth, although as a verb, effulge has never quite taken off. Both words have their root in one of the many Latin words for shine, fulgēre. As if from the heavens, the clouds broke and an effulgent light shone down.”

(from “1000 Words to Expand Your Vocabulary” by Joseph Piercy)

Hello Me

I’ve seen people with ebriosity and it’s been anything but a party. I make slight comments about my Mother’s bottle of wine a night. I say them not to offend or attack, but to try and help with the realisation and self knowledge.

It is certainly hard to know one’s self. Often we say about our spouse that they know us better than we know ourselves, and although it is a compliment to them, is it also not an insult to us? Why are we neglecting our self care and self love and self awareness. Not bubble baths and face masks and a cheeky chocolate. Superficial moments built on a web of marketing. We should ask ourselves intimate questions, find out our core and our heart and how to make us happier when the world makes us sad.

I sit ebullient at the prospect of what could come, all the wonder I now hold for something I’d always just let walk by in the mirror without a deeper look.

Up from my meandering mind I glance, through black glass the moon is full and effulgent. A scamper of paws runs across in the distance, must be one of the garden weasels. I wonder how well weasels know themselves, how different is one weasel to another. Do weasels have hobbies, favourite foods, different dreams to distinguish themselves. Does our garden weasel have a soulmate, and does soulmate weasel know how to cheer up garden weasel even when they don’t?

I pull the curtains heavy over the window panes, pained at the loss of time. Imagine meeting your life love at an elderly age, forever thinking you only wish you’d known more about them, fell deeper into them. This is a call not for love. Not for your relationship with another. This is a push to connect with yourself. While I connect with myself.

Hello me, there’s so much I have to tell you.

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