Day 022: Still
I always end up taking it for granted. The stillness of the morning. When the only sound I hear is the low hum of an air conditioner and the high hum of the fan, creating a harmony of noise pollution, along with the optimal temperature for sleep. It’s not cold enough to make you sick, but it definitely makes you want to stay under the covers, where it’s warm and safe. The room remains dark, with the exception of a few slivers of light peeking from the curtain. Outside, the world is awake and angry. Where they can’t see, it’s just us. And even on mornings like today, I can’t appreciate it. The clock is ticking and my pen is choking. It’s the perfect morning and all I can do is worry what to write about. I softly kiss Rachel awake so that I can pick her brain.
“You should write about…Willy.”
“What about Willy?”
“That he’s cuuuute…and niiiice…and haaaandsome…”
I can agree with two of those sentiments. If all three of those traits were true, it’d be an unmitigated disaster. He would be the perfect specimen. We would spend all of our days marveling over him. We’d forget about our jobs, our commitments. We’d forget to sleep, bathe or eat. He would be the end of us. Basically, he’d be the Infinite Jest of cats.
“You can write about…baseball cards…”
I’m already planning on writing about baseball tomorrow. And I’m not quite prepared to fully open up about my deep dive into the card collecting hobby. Perhaps in the offseason, I’ll do a “Baseball Card of the Week” or something. By the end of this experiment, every day is going to be a designated ______ of the week.
“You can follow one of your villagers around again…”
But I only have 9 villagers left to follow. I have to stretch that out over the next year. What will the people think if I’m a fifth way done after a week?
“You can write about…how much you love me?”
And I do. I love her to the moon and back, whatever that means. After everything that we’ve been through, she’s still laying there beside me. And here I am, worrying about some frivolous project. I kiss her gently on the forehead and shove my armpit in her face. She doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t know why my armpit is in her face. I quickly retract and pull her close to me. She coos and rubs her face against mine. Her body is so warm, so perfect, so everything. I close my eyes and soak it all in. The stillness of the morning. The hum of the devices. The light shining through. The wonderful cat on the couch. The team that’s winning. The villagers that exist. The love that I feel. I always end up taking it for granted. Well, not always. Not today.
“I’ve got to get up.”
“What’re you going to write about?”
“I’m not sure yet…”
“I’m giving you gold, Jerry. Gold!”
“My name is Troy”
“I’m giving you gold, Troy. Gold!”
“Are you quoting Kenny Bania?”
Maybe I can hold her for one more minute. The morning will still be still when it’s over.