Thursday, May 6, 2010

On Waking.

The light shines in at six-thirty, pouring in when he least wants it. When his eyes are closed the tightest, when the sheets are dusky with long shadows, creases picking up darker tones of the blankets. This is when he must rise. Must collect energy, using it like a rope to pull himself out of the comforter. His outline in the navy blue covers mark where he shifted and shuffled during the night, legs twitching, his jaw shifting the lips that dryly moved from side to side. To leave the old bed that sags with aging box springs, found quickly in a friend's garage, the bed he hoisted onto the red bed of his truck.

An expectant hummingbird built a nest outside his bedroom window last week, placing the pea-sized mottled eggs into the nest with care. If he listens closely, he can hear the whirring of her wings. If he listens, he can hear Gina starting her car next door. He can hear the keys jingling in the pocket of her jeans. The denim hugging her curves, the grass wet with dewy sprinklers, her tennis shoes damp from morning fog.

. . . . . .

He is a statue, feet firmly rooted into the slick linoleum, standing in front of the percolator on the formica. Mug held in his slack, limp hand, eyes inanimate and half-closed, he waits in his green cotton bathrobe, hair tousled and smelling of warm sleep. Waits for the deluge of muddy waters.

Ingrained in him, he can't help but know the sucking sound of the water through the coffee grounds, through the filter, sifting down into a carafe that will give him one cup, only to turn cold for the rest of the day. The coffee will sit, waiting, waiting to touch the bottom of another empty mug; it will wait with nitrates to water the basil and raspberry plants on the patio.

This is how all days begin. Like days on the calendar, he breathes in one breath after another; inhale, exhale, repeat, the slow rattle of his heavy chest sounding like crackling newspaper. I could stand to lose ten pounds, he thinks. I could stand to cut my toenails.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

This is such a simple bit of heaven. It reads easy.