Ever
have one of those days? You know what I mean. You go to make a nice fresh pot
of coffee and that new super-duper digital self-timing self-measuring alarm
clock radioed CD playing coffee maker won’t turn on. Suddenly you are forced to
boil water over the stove because the microwave is set permanently to “thaw”
and won’t boil water in a nanosecond. It takes a few frustrating minutes to
rummage through the overstocked food cabinet to find that “New improved tastes
like beans” instant coffee you bought months ago. Voila, persistence pays off
as you find the package only to realize it is hardened and you have to chip
away at the newly formed brick to make flakes to drop in your about to be boiled
water.
Finally you go to sit outside on the
deck to witness the peace-filled dawn and there on your favorite most
comfortable outdoor chair is a fresh welcoming pile of bird poop. You angrily
grab a stiff wooden hard backed chair from inside the kitchen, sit perfectly up
right and begin to record your morning observations in your journal. Opening
the black book you see all the pages are full and that note that you had
written that said,“ get a new journal,” slips gently from the inner pages of
the book.
Sitting
still you try to be present. Breathing deeply. Taking more breaths, in and out,
in and out. Relaxed you forget to grasp the boiling hot mud-filled coffee mug
on your lap and it spills probably scarring you for life. Rather than giving out
that outlandish screech a perfectly fouled mouth curse slips out from under
your breath. Retreating inside after you are done wiping and cleaning up much of the staining coffee you decide that sitting at the computer seems to
be the perfect way to save the morning. Recording your thoughts and events so
far on a hard drive will preserve this moment forever. No filled pages to worry
about. You pop open the screen from our laptop to witness a rainbow ball spinning,
spinning and spinning.
Recalling
with arrogant pride your well-trained techno savvy cleverness you immediately reboot
the computer. Again... Again. The ball still spins and spins and seems to spin
faster and faster and finally the screen is blank. For some reason this box of
electronic wizardry refuses your firm finger poking “command” to come back to
life. CPR for laptops is a myth. For a split second tossing this useless “
piece of s *&%$” out the window seems like a way to get relief.
“But
there are so many memories locked inside her. Maybe I can find a hard drive Dr.
Frankenstein who can give her life again.”
Recalling
that the TV cable connection is out from the storms two days ago. It has
stormed a lot lately. Some trees have fallen but birds still sing and greet
each day from the branches of the trees that still stand . So watching failed
actors masquerading as television journalists to get their pre-adolescent
versions and uneducated opinions of what is news and why is not an option now.
You stumble your way to the front door for that trusted black and white solution.
Opening the door it becomes evident that the paperboy has again skillfully
tossed the morning newspaper to be visibly lodged in the upper third of your
front lawn 50 foot oak tree.
“Gotta
give that kid credit. He has a great arm.”
Frustratingly
closing the door inner strength is gained to glance up the stairs to head back to
where you started, and there stands that full smiling floppy eared golden hair
shedding canine companion. His
happy tail wags feverishly. He pants over and over and over now sitting
patiently awaiting your strides up the stairs so he can burst up jumping as you
reach the final step with his fore paws onto your drained slumping shoulders.
Upon
reaching that top stair the companion reacts precisely as you expected. Bracing
yourself in advance you hold out your arms to welcome him. Luckily he is not a
slobbering kisser like some dogs in the neighborhood. He jumps and wrestles you
to the ground. Exhausted from the trials of the morning you lie there and your
pal just lies next to you. Somehow in the middle of all the excitement he
snatched up that funny little furry stuffed whatchamacallit into his mouth and
presents it into your face and drops it.
“Let’s
play!” he says in his way. He is ready to go.
His
sleeping late has helped him conserve all the energy he has. Surprising him you
hold onto him firmly with a big hug for a second. Thinking you are ready to
play he jumps up, almost breaking your nose, and leans back with fore legs down
and that big silly panting smile.
He
aggressively wrestles the slobber-coated stuffed toy from your hands and with
the wag of a tail he his gone as if to say “Come on, chase me!” You wonder if
he realizes that the root of those aches and burning pains that kept him restlessly
trying to get comfort on a cool soothing wood floor all night is the cancer
that slowly eats away at his insides and how it will never go away.
Remembrance
of the early morning trifles evaporates as you become grateful for becoming
present to all that matters… now. Smiling you jump after your companion …. and finally the day begins.
( for my Otis Redding)
amdg
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