I wrote this little blurb out and posted it on Facebook back in July, and although I never bothered to edit it, I thought I would share it on the blog. I never gave it a title, and I don't really have any further plans for it, but since this blog is a scrap-book of sorts, I feel that it is okay to add this little writing exercise in. I wrote this on a humid Saturday morning at work when I was supposed to be catching up, but for some reason could not stop narrating everything that I was doing that day. I was training myself to be more appreciative of the present, and this was the result.
Warm Morning In July
It’s barely 7 am and the warm air in the warehouse has seeped through into the office. Still, I sip from my steaming mug of coffee, a small but much needed comfort as I continue the mindless task of entering driver logs so early on a Saturday when I would normally be sleeping in. The soft denim of my overalls are a warm hug on my legs, and despite the heat, I am grateful for these small comforts. Hot coffee, soft jeans, and enormous pink headphones to drown out the sound of the hi-lows and fill my mind with music videos that were never made.
On days like this I tend to be more selective with my music choices, and The Relationship is soothing. Brian Bell tells me that he sees beauty in the things I do wrong, and I wonder if he has ever covered Elvis Costello. “Radio Sweetheart”.
Popping the headphones off, I take a quick walk to the garage to pick up more logs. The large, old fan dangling from the ceiling blows warm air around, and causes the fine strands of hair on my head to tingle along my scalp. On my way back to the office, I see my comrades for the morning going about their business. Paul is enamored in a text message, clicking away almost-frantically, the hi-lo beside him on idle. Mark is rubbing the sleep from his eyes and headed towards the lunchroom with an empty coffee mug, neither of them taking notice of me. My converse are quiet against the warehouse floor as I walk away, and I wonder if this is what a super power feels like. I am in this moment, invisible.
Back at my desk, the air in the office is getting warmer. I top off my coffee, and the stack of logs is daunting, but I don’t mind. For the very first time in weeks, I don’t think of what I have to do later today. Faces of loved ones flicker across my mind, and for once I don’t wonder when I’ll see them next. This is a practice of living in the present, a difficult feat for an anxiety-ridden female who dwells on the mistakes of her past, and the uncertainty of her future. I am slowly acknowledging that living in the present is too like a super power, as I become hyper-aware of my surroundings. The clapping noise as a pallet hits the warehouse floor, the growls escaping the coffee pot beside the printer, the soft hum of my mini desk fan, and the scent of sweet pea of the lotion on my hands whisking up my nose as I push the bridge of my glasses back into place with my index finger.
I search my mind to placate what I am actually feeling in this moment, and it is an unexpected blanket of contentment. Hot coffee, warm jeans, and yet I feel almost intangible. Super powers. Simple things, boring things, are what my life is made up of in these quiet moments of self-awareness, and they are much appreciated for once.
I place my headphones back on, they cushion my ears as the Decemberists truly convince me to not carry it all.