Writings of the Past Pt. I

I rarely write anymore, but this is one of my favorite pieces I've written. I still experience the feelings I talk about pretty consistently. Original post Jan 15, 2007.

Have you ever, on an early morning, just laid in bed because the air was too numbing to entice you out, so you just laid there, watching the shadows of the trees dance on your wall and/or dresser trickling through the blinds? Have you ever laid there, letting your eyes gently dance with the shadows and just let your thoughts roam free with no contempt for them? You feel the coldness nip at your bare shoulders, cheeks, lips, and you feel it rest on your hair and pillow. The thoughts seems to just prance as much as the shadows and you rest your head on that pillow, as a way of tolerating your thoughts' freedom.

It's as if this moment is begging for music to start playing, like a soundtrack to your life...opening credits, if you will. You breathe. The air almost has a faint taste of sweetness because of the chill. You also take in your own scent that always lingers on your sheets; it mixes and creates nothing. You feel all the textures stroking your body, as if they take turns and you can pinpoint what they are: gentle, stiff material of the pillow caresses your left cheek; the thin shirt material covering your back, chest; the weight of comforting warmth of soft blankets; and you sink into the mattress...these are the moments your body needs but rarely gets, right?

Time is not an issue right now. He's not an issue. She's no issue. That exam, those bills, that fight. Those words, that job, all the money, the lack thereof. Food, politics, sex, pain, pleasure, terror, worries, war, nothing. Nothing is an issue because you are alive and taking comfort in just being. Any bad memory or thought was not invited to such a soiree today. But one thought slips over you, not in a morose way, as it usually would but in a wishful way. The thought, or rather, desire of being able to lie next to someone else. Someone who just by being present on that morning with you, even if they are asleep, brings you bountiful helpings of relaxation, comfort, happiness, and admiration. There would be a way of sharing this simple existence with them without consciousness. You would probably watch the shadows dance across them rather than the dresser or wall. You would allow a genuine smile envelop your lips, the air would taste sweeter without a doubt, and the scent of both of you is incredibly intoxicating. As if their presence in this moment was Life's way to render good for evil. If they stir, it excites you because although their unconscious presence is all you loved at the moment, it's their conscious presence in your life that you live for. The type of presence that makes you dream of waking up. Everyone's taken everything they can, but right there, that moment, is the only moment you wish your life could consist of for the long run. A human warmth through an embrace is something blankets could never attempt to offer you.

You blink. Reality's stopwatch beeped. You are alone. You sigh. You embrace your state of relaxation once more. You send your thoughts back from whence they came, bottled up for the various occasions, all labeled with their satin bows: Anger, Sadness, Determination, Comfort, Love, Frustration, Confusion, etc. The day awaits you. It will always await you. But what waits for you within the day could possibly change you forever. And that thought alone entices you into the bitter cold.

And the shadows still dance.

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