Beauty in the Ordinary

SCENE: IN THE KITCHEN

I'm making a snack to enjoy with my coffee. Which is more ritual than necessity. There is singing. It's my own. Something must be the matter, for I sing to release the feelings balled up in my chest that make me feel sick. Emotions are easily seen in my eyes and the corners of my lips. It could be many things, like being briefly consumed by the unpredictable possibilities that could have happened or have yet to and result in catastrophe. I don't like dwelling on things I can't change so I get back to my snack. I'm on my phone now and watch a clip of something so beautiful, sad, or funny that I get teary. My snack is gone now and I think of the things that I know people are going through. I wish I could take their pain away. Music is playing now and I sing with my all.

SCENE: THE BATHROOM

The mirror looks back at me with indifference. I don't hate what I see, even though it is exhausted. There are things unseen too, like brain damage from an illness I can't cure and sadness that sucks motivation from my ambitions. My favorite song comes on, so I start to dance along to the beat and sing to the person in the mirror. Simultaneously and almost compulsively checking the time because I don't want to be late, I begin to ready myself. I think about how some say I err on the side of being serious. It may be so but I also love humor even if mine comes out as sarcasm. I leave the bathroom barefaced. I don't like to conceal who I am.

SCENE: THE TRANSIT STATION

I see a pigeon on a pole and feel the gust from the departing train. There is beauty in the ordinary. I notice small things and try to appreciate them. Someone just passed me on the escalator and I text someone that they looked like someone we know. The pigeon has flown down from his post and he's limping, poor baby. As people gather to leave, I think about how each person has their own life, stories, and families. It's beautiful and overwhelming, much like the night sky. The transit lines are perfectly straight so I take a picture to remember this ordinary moment.

SCENE: THE PARK

I'm meeting a friend soon for a catch up and some wine. I listen to the wind and enjoy the movement of life. The leaves fluttering in the sun, conversations of those walking by. When she arrives, I may feel her pain, or cry with her. Better yet to laugh and hear our voices ring. I'll tell her about my current interests. Rabbit holes I found myself in, like learning about opera, bushcraft or shrimp tanks. I offer to search something for her because I want to help but I am also skilled in the hunt. Hopefully she likes me, but I won't change myself to increase that likelihood. As we talk I gesture almost wildly in hopes that I'll be understood. I desperately want to be understood as much as I want to understand.

SCENE: MY BED

I fall asleep behind my eye mask, tossing around until I find comfort, which usually looks like I'm climbing. Our conversation is still in my mind. I hope I left her feeling loved and validated. As I climb I think of all the beauty I've experienced, the music that moved me and the understanding of patterns. In a dream, a family member has died and I'm unconsolable. My eyes are covered and it's dark so you can't see the corners of my lips. In my dreams I can't sing.