The last few minutes before boarding a plane can be the most stressful. I definitely felt that way on Saturday. I knew I was forgetting something, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I went through my mental checklist one by one.
Yes, I shut down the computer.
Yes, I set the alarm.
Yes, I have my money.
I thought I was going crazy before I boarded my plane bound for Amsterdam. It was like a sardine can: a sardine can with a really nice entertainment center. I was sitting next to an obnoxious blonde bound for Kenya. With a sigh, I got up to go to the bathroom once the plane was stable. When I returned to my seat, someone else was sitting next to me.
I didn’t bother asking questions. Luckily for me, my new rowmate was very nice and fun to speak with. Then there was Amsterdam and my lethargy. Good food, though! After a bit in Amsterdam, I was on a plane again and in no time I was in Poland. Half asleep and feeling exhausted from travelling, I arrived at my grandmother’s home. Another hour or two of conversation and I was dead tired. My grandmother shows me to my room and reminds me where the toilet and showers are and then I finally get a chance to sleep.
When I was a kid, my family went on a lot of road trips. We would head north to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan or up into the thumb. Sometimes, we’d head into Ohio and camp there for a week. I remember in fourth grade, my family went on a six week long trip from our home in Detroit, down south to New Orleans then out west to San Diego and back north again to head home.
I traveled through almost thirty states in that trip. I stood in four different states at one time. I went swimming in U.S. Military protected water and ran away before anyone showed up to arrest us. I climbed a glacier in the middle of July and slid down the snow of a mountain on a trash bag. I experienced so many different sights and sounds in those six weeks. I doubt I will ever be able to replicate the wonder and amazement that trip instilled within me.
We did a lot of driving on that trip. I sat between my Mom and Dad and had the honor of changing the tapes in the car when we wanted to listen to something new. In the middle of the desert in Arizona or possibly New Mexico, my mother and older sister had dozed off in the truck. My dad and I decided it was best not to wake them when we made a quick pit stop.
I looked at a map of the country hanging in the rest stop bathroom. I traced the path I (assumed) we had taken. My dad came out of the men’s room and walked to a vending machine where he bought a box of Everlasting Gobstoppers – my favorite candy at the time.
We walked back to the truck and hopped inside. My mother mumbled something in her half-roused state and then fell back to sleep. I buckled myself back in and my dad turned the key. An old episode of “The Shadow” resumed. My dad handed me the box of gobstoppers and I gave him an orange one before popping a yellow one into my mouth.
For the next hour or so, my dad and I listened to Lamont Cranston solve crimes while sucking on a gobstopper and laughing with my dad. Despite all of the amazing things I saw and all the great people I met during those six weeks, the memory of eating candy and laughing with my dad is the one I remember with the most fondness.
This city is killing us. I’m certain of it as I brush the hair out of your eyes in the park. Your gaze squarely set on the skyscrapers surrounding us; enveloping us; consuming us. I chuckle at the thought of the two of us and take a drink of sweet tea.
My laptop sits on the corner of our blanket playing song after song. We silently listen to the swells and crashes of each. I gently hum along with a bar or two while I lay my head in your lap and you watch the taxis drive by, honking their horns and transporting their fares. I pick a blade of grass and tickle your hand with it. You laugh and lean down to kiss me.
“We should run away. Pack the car with the odds and ends of our life and run away. We could go from town to town and pick up random jobs and make money for the next gas tank. We should run away.”
I’d never heard you so excited without the aid of alcohol; without the aid of cocaine; without my aid. You seem more alive in this moment than I had ever seen you. You look into my eyes and I can feel you waiting for my response. I feel your eagerness to do something, but more importantly, that I be involved in what you wanted to do.
I could hear my mother yelling from the kitchen.I slowly finished typing the last sentence of a paper and rushed down the stairs.My mother stood next to the stove dipping a ladle into a giant pot on a burner.She carefully poured two and a half ladles worth of soup into a bowl and handed it to me.
I carefully walked to the kitchen table, mouth salivating from the delicious scent of chicken soup invading my nostrils.My mother poured herself a bowl and sat down next to me at the table.
I grabbed a small saucer of freshly cut dill from the center of the table and sprinkled some onto my soup.After handing the saucer over to my mother, I looked carefully at my bowl.
There I saw one of the most subtle displays of affection.My mother was careful to ladle out more broth than vegetables and meat.She made sure there was no chicken bone in my bowl.My mother knew how I liked to eat my soup.
I stirred the dill into my soup with my spoon and then I took a big slurp of it.
“Great soup, Mum,” I said emphatically, “Just the way I like it.”
This morning I woke up tired again.I wiggled my toes and watched the dark green stripes on my socks move and dance.I’m not sure what I’m doing with my life these days.Unemployment while in college is not fun – especially when you spend most of the hours of the day within the confines of your home.
After letting out a few yawns, I lazily walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.No sense showering today.I wasn’t leaving the house.I absently stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few minutes.
My world has been getting smaller rather than larger, lately. This seems to be contributing to my dull mood. The job market sucks.My classes suck.My hygiene (lately) sucks.
This morning I woke up tired again.I clenched and unclenched my hands and gritted my teeth.My morning cup of tea was moderately refreshing and I sat sipping it while watching an elephant paint a self-portrait.
I decided it was time to get down to business and submitted my resume to a few job listings while reading my next assignment while taking a practice quiz while changing songs on my Zune while eating a bagel while reading the news.
My brain whirred and chugged along, retaining this bit of information and releasing that bit.Multi-tasking sucks.Studying sucks.This tea sucks.
This morning I woke up tired again.I grumbled and mumbled my way out of bed and into my bathroom.I stared at myself in the mirror for a few minutes before brushing my teeth.My eyes were droopy.The corners of my mouth were droopy.After a quick gargle and rinse, my gaze drifted toward the shower and I shrugged.I wasn’t leaving the house today.
The cream cheese on my bagel was a welcomed diversion from the white snowy patches in my yard.I stood over the sink, bagel in one hand, newspaper in the other.I read the funny papers and chomped on my bagel, occasionally chuckling over Marmaduke’s antics or how Dennis isn’t really very menacing at all.
I washed the plate I had set my bagel on and watched a squirrel run across the snow in my backyard.Routines suck.Snow sucks.This bagel sucks.
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