Monday, October 6, 2008

Suburbia

In the early morning hours I opened my eyes for a second and then snapped them back shut. As I lay there, something didn't feel right. I slowly opened my eyes and tried to focus them on the moving ceiling fan. Mechanically, it moved the air around the room, but somehow it still felt stagnant. I can't be comfortable with stagnant air. It must be moving. Not focused and mostly confused I stumbled into the master bathroom because opening that window seemed so very important.

As I opened the window I leaned my chin on the sill and gazed out into my backyard and around the neighborhood. The suburbs are frighteningly quiet at 4:00 in the morning on a Monday. No lights, no sounds. I saw little red flashing lights protecting vehicles from the thieves that weren't out. One house was lit up; the living room, the kitchen. Light spilled from every window. I wondered if they were early risers or just got home from work.

The fresh air wafted in and played with my nose. I sneezed and crawled back into bed. I should have been relaxed and comfortable, but too many words from the previous days danced around in my head. Each one pulling up thoughts and feelings - hurtful, angry. Heartbroken and confused, I don't know how I can feel so much and so little at the same time. I feel it all but force the numbness to make it okay. It all used to roll away. Even when it hurt, it rolled and the forgiveness came easily.

The soft inside of my belly starts to feel like stone, hard and unrelenting but somehow still crumbly. I know I'm supposed to do something but I don't know what it is anymore. Moment to moment, I'm unsure of what the mood will be or even how to field it.

Silently, I beg sleep to come back in and take it away. Peace to come back with soft snores and gentle tossing back and forth. Sweet, cool sheets, pulled up to my chin. Instead, I hear uneasy cries that take my mind into different directions. Soon, light will be spilling from all the windows in my house. And, when that light spills, when the house moves, when those dark, cool early hours are gone, I cease to feel real again.

6 comments:

Kellie said...

I'm worried. Are you okay?

KaritaG said...

I know what you mean.

Is it better to feel real, if it hurts, than to feel fake, even if it feels good?

Feel free to chat me anytime. I hope your week gets better!

Dirty Pirate Hooker said...

Ugh, talk about a cry baby whiner!!!

You know I'm kidding.

Kisses and Herpes,
DPH

J said...

I love the lack of sound of the neighborhood in the morning. It's peaceful.

:)

Rebecka said...

I think I'm the ONLY one awake on my block at 5am. Depressing. My parents were always up at 4:15am growing up. and 6am on weekends.

ajillofalltrades said...

*sigh*

You have a way with words...

and depiction.