Lather, Rinse, Repeat
The most beautiful holiday ended with 17 hours of take-off and landing, and bumping shoulders, and heavy bags dragged across a city. New Year's Eve was the sound of popping fireworks outside my window and three missed parties. I climbed out of bed at midnight to see a green firework pop. "There. I celebrated," I mumbled, and dragged myself back to bed.
For almost two weeks, my brain said "¡Hola!" instead of hello. My dreams would sometimes take me back to the warm water and beautiful sky, and I would be running along a pretty dirt path, feeling the warm breeze on my face and breathe: "This place is still here!" But no, I am here instead. Life is a series of steps leading to the bus stops, a jerky ride over the freeway, a wet walk to the elevator, a long wait for my email to load. Then it's a lunch break of Lean Cuisines and Chewy granola bars, in which I can never get enough water, and then a scramble to finish my list so I can take a long wet walk though the city, fighting down my progressing heartbeat as I walk down the streets that my mugger roams.
Then it's home; here; my life. My endless ritual of nothing. I mean, everything... I am really good at my job.
For almost two weeks, my brain said "¡Hola!" instead of hello. My dreams would sometimes take me back to the warm water and beautiful sky, and I would be running along a pretty dirt path, feeling the warm breeze on my face and breathe: "This place is still here!" But no, I am here instead. Life is a series of steps leading to the bus stops, a jerky ride over the freeway, a wet walk to the elevator, a long wait for my email to load. Then it's a lunch break of Lean Cuisines and Chewy granola bars, in which I can never get enough water, and then a scramble to finish my list so I can take a long wet walk though the city, fighting down my progressing heartbeat as I walk down the streets that my mugger roams.
Then it's home; here; my life. My endless ritual of nothing. I mean, everything... I am really good at my job.