Waking Up

Blinking eyes open as I will the sheets to evaporate, each one heavy, holding me down squinting in the sun on a mid-August ten o five. The breeze sends a chill through my skin leaving me with nothing. Not a sound stirs the room. I have an empty day ahead but I can’t settle into any decision without running through my mind, picking apart every piece of an exhausted friend who used to hum to the beat of a sunny day when there was a high of sixty five keeping me out of the pool and in a senseless state of routine.

The towel hangs still, pressed too tightly to sway above the floorboard that was not forgotten, even rescued, but this room is hollow, wreaking of dry disinfectant spray lounging across the surface of a maze, where every paper seems unnecessary but not a single word out of place. A laugh brings me to the window and spills out when Shadow catches a warbler, continuing the cycle without me. The Baby’s Breath doesn’t mind being trampled by his feet, understanding the nature behind it all. I breathe in, my senses awakening to the life and death that each day holds. One more chill runs through my being before I quickly find my way back to what I know, a bed of sheets and stillness.

Here I hold time just long enough to wake up in a blurry morning. I think what I know and I feel what I want but the truth is the breeze blew away the sound in this habit of taking my time cooking eggs and hanging dress shirts, lining all the collars up just so. I was only kidding myself in thinking that these pale pink walls could protect me forever, not just from the monsters in my closet or the knee scrapes from the slide, but from the car wrecks and the heart break my life includes. Try to carry a collar out now and I will surely melt, just like my mind in a mid-August ten o five.

Where I go to be alone

In my search for balance, I have come across a spot on campus that I am particularly fond of. It is a calm place next to a common building. Most people don’t know that two big tables sit there, but I do and I go there to focus in on what I need to do or be. In this place I can relax and not be distracted by the many friendly faces around school. The area is outside but covered so rain or shine, I can always go there to catch my thoughts. I have only seen one other person sit there before, but I feel like they shared the same desire of solitude as I did.

Silence is a beautiful thing. In my spot I can experience this truth in a very tangible way. Without televisions, radios, or electric instruments to fill my ear I am left alone with the world. The bugs are loud, much louder than back home and the wind moves as if it is only speaking to me. On a sunny day I am in awe at the way the leaves reflect the light differently. Angles and shapes create my own kaleidoscope so only I can see them. But the rain is my favorite. There is something about the way it falls, each drop hitting the ground harder than the one before, each hit defining the earth in a new way. The thick air hangs in front of my face, wrestling with the loose hair I hadn’t noticed fall from my bun. I am warm, whole and wondering here. I feel smaller, like I can see the world as the enormous adventure it is and not be fooled into thinking it follows my lead. This table holds up a fresh perspective and a new way of thinking for me. My chair overwhelms me with comfort as I rest my head, close my eyes and appreciate the simple things like silence and rain.

This place is like a secret, told once but never forgotten. And surprisingly, it is here where I feel the most presence. Here I can take a step outside of time and catch a glimpse of eternity, a piece of the knowing. Through my kaleidoscope of fallen leaves and drops of rain, I see what matters and I know who I am. This is my place where I go to be alone.