Active

This is the first time in several days that I have been fully functional before noon. I like the feeling of getting out of bed and starting my day early, I just don't seem to have the will to do it. Or maybe just the sense. Either way, it's something I feel I should make a serious commitment to. I remember as late as two years ago I would be out of bed by 7:15 am every weekday, enjoying the quiet of the street before all the morning traffic, the sounds of the birds, the rustle of the leaves on the tree outside my bedroom window, the occasional car on the wet pavement outside. I remember the brisk cool air in the store as I would rush from the heavy back door to the front counter to turn off the alarm. I remember the worn plush slip-cover on the chair, how it felt against my hands and legs as I kneeled down to turn off the alarm and grab a few coins from the rollers to buy breakfast. I remember the heavy knock of the bolt on the front door, and how I would have to pull the door towards myself just a little to slip the lock shut again. I remember that first breath of fresh, dewy spring air mingled with tar from newly laid asphalt. I remember the walk to school, the wet sidewalk, the wet sand in my flip-flops, the cool breeze, and the flitting sunlight falling against my skin. I remember the sounds, the birds, the trees, my shoes, the sand, and the traffic picking up behind my as I walked away from Ridout.

The most beautiful and peaceful moments were on that street, in those shoes, under the shade of those trees. I never shared those moments with anyone. When I go back there in a matter of days I will struggle to relive the beauty of those days and I will not match it. I will sleep in, be distracted by traffic and children, and be inhibited by the changes in my life. I only grasp the beauty and peace of that time years later, when I have forgotten all that distracted me from it then, but before I can forget what distracts me now. I don't know if I am sad. I suppose it's a sort of wistful sadness, the sort of feeling that comes not from heartbreak, but simply from knowing. Knowing how distant that time and place have become. Knowing that no matter how I try I will never regain those days and those sensations. There really is no way for me to end today. I could go on interminably, I want to go on interminably, half-willing to believe that if I do eventually I will be back there, but there is no road back. There is no real chance of regaining it. I can only move forward and hope that somehow I will stumble back into that place with all its beauty and serenity.