The weight of my body pressed into the faux leather seat beneath me, the crunch gives off a familiar startle. I feel myself squash into the cushions as my heels dig deeper into the hardwood floor trying to regain stability on once familiar ground. The cool air outside begins to rustle and dance whisps of the reminder of the changing of seasons. The feeling so hollow but deeply familiar. Once upon a time the start of Autumn was one filled with feelings of hope, optimism and nerves; with every year that passes further from this time of life, it leaves you feeling almost primal in the desire to live through these unattainable emotions once again through someone else.
My eyes wander off and lose focus as I get caught in this thought alone, in the background the smell of instant coffee assaults my nostrils with acidity and my tongue begins to water, I lick my lips and regain my attention to the morning as the faint whirr of the refrigerator grounds me. The sensation of change haunts the air, the place we once called home now a dusty decorated territory that I’ve lost.
The place we once knew as an oasis now only has room for one, the voices match the criteria, my brain registers as “right” but many others missing. The modest warm light gives off a still glisten; allowing myself to register only what is important. That’s one thing you were and I believe always will be wonderful at, keeping yourself out of the scene while remaining the spotlight, highlighting everyone’s imperfections for your own good, your perfect untouched reputation of fair. I take a moment to sigh and regain my breath, cupping my hands around your mug, I hug the now sweet aroma coming from the ceramic.
I plant myself firmly back on that sofa and allow myself to sit back, after my first sip I realize how much the insignificant consistencies of life trick us into feeling safe from the everlasting change. When the human experience is allowed to free-flow it nearly always ends up reliving and re-experiencing the past during the current, future as safety net bringing us to an almost psychotic state of comfort in that same rut. Finding yourself in an old familiar place is like an old whittled memory where you are able to decide to feel the sharp joy of recommitting to exactly who you are and reliving the same life in a washed out cycle or a phenomenal way to feels the distance between exactly who you were the last time you touched those walls and look into the mirror of memories accept the good as only a memory and head down keep walking forward with your eyes closed in the crawl of the human experience. As I completed my thought and I looked up at the rays of sun beginning to creep up the skyline and closed my eyes and took the last swig of my coffee. Placing the mug on the ottoman in front of me. I collected my keys in my warm palms, I found myself in the car hands on the steering wheel, frozen since. As the road changes before me I try to capture my breath as I witness the reckless pattern of night turn to day happen for the many thousandths of times in a row.