True Love of Coffee

Events that have shaped who I am. Thoughts on very specific instances that altered my way of thinking-

So here I was. She knew my name. She knew so much about me. When I watched the flow of her body, the way she moved was enthralling. The sight of watching something so simple as a walk across the room was shear elegance in action, as if she had l practiced the steps a thousand times before. The mere thought of how perfected the simplest action was, the beauty of her pace and the steady movement was simply indescribable.

I find the smallest traits to be the best.

One day a year ago, I went down a dark city street. I knew I shouldn’t be there. But I was. I walked calmly into the darkness yet my heart slowly became tense. The sounds of the city echoed in my mind as a sign of life couldn’t be seen nor heard. Just the mindless rustle of nothingness. My heart panicked. It skipped a beat. Then another.

This is what I feel when I am alone.

I had once traveled to a high peak in the mountains where the air was so clean it spoke to my soul. It told me how long I had lived in denial of having something less than purity. Each breath I took pumped vibrant life into my body. I could feel the cool air push through my chest and down into my arms, then my feet, and finally rise into my head. It was incredible. It was everything I had never known it could be.

That is what she smells like.

I was sitting on a park bench eating my lunch when I saw a small boy a few paces away. He was on his knees crying, grasping something as if he had broken a favorite toy. I smiled trying to give comfort without disturbing him. My smile went unnoticed, so I moved closer and gently touched him on the shoulder. He moved slightly and I saw the small puppy he was grasping so tightly. It was motionless and without breath. The boy looked into my eyes and I saw the despair he had for his best and only friend.

That despair I challenge in myself each day.

I had just watched my rope slide through my climbing harness and I fell. Five. Ten. Fifteen yards. Then the ground met me. It hurt. More than I imagined it would. My face fell into the dust of the canyon floor. My hands pushed my body up again and as I did my eyes rose to see this perfect sunflower next to me. I paused. I was fixated on it. It said hello to me. A thousand perfectly arranged shapes within this flower all by itself in the canyon. The only perfect flower I have seen nearly being smashed by my almost dying body. Ironic.

I find this irony in everything.

Once when I was little I punched my best friend in the stomach playing with him. It nearly killed him. We never spoke again as friends. I miss him. I question why I decided to comically punch him that day. Why I had been sick myself that week and stayed home sick. Why he had an intensive surgery to his stomach that no one told me about when I came back. I question that action again and again in my mind. Such a simple act of friendly schoolyard play costing me a valued friend.

I question the simplest action everyday.

I never understood life until I held my daughter in my hand. She was so small. So motionless. My heart felt like a clamp tightening against my whole body. Regardless of everything I had done in my life- the lives I had changed and the lives I had saved, the only one that mattered to me was gone. I knew her death would destroy the best parts of my life and that my life would have to be rebuilt. I hated myself for failing her.

I will never fail someone again.

I was sitting at work one day and training a friend to learn some of the steps I did. The phone rang. I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. It rang again. My friend said I should answer it. My hand touched the phone and I knew; my mom was dead. Before I heard my sister’s voice I was already crying. The words she said weren’t needed. The feeling was absolute and inescapable.

I hate feeling loss like that.

I saw my son walking around my backyard and he tackled a clump of grass. He stayed motionless for a second, then stood up with his hands clasped around a centipede. He was so proud to have caught this little monster in his backyard. He valiantly showed it to me and said monsters don’t get to come in his yard.

I was so happy he could fight his own monsters.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 7th, 2006 at 8:03 am and is filed under Daily thoughts, Creative Writing, Author's Favorites. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.