Home's Odyssey

Home’s Odyssey

            Arising as a Cyclops from its slumber, I attempt to gain my bearings. I search for the alarm clock with a swagger resembling a drunk on Saturday night.  There, a little to the left, I stumble on the morning’s arch enemy. With only three minutes before my daily antagonist usually sounds its menacing blow, I gain some sense of consciousness. Last night, I relished in eliminating from my usual schedule the supplying of life to my daily, morning intruder. Mercy emerges today as a holiday. So, if I possess the day off, why am I attempting to wake up?  I demonstrate little resistance in breaking from my normal schedule. With gentle precision, I rotate my shoulders gently up and down and snuggle my pillow a little closer to prepare for that rare experience of a morning slumber. Mr. Sandman, you will be my boss today…

            Oh, my goodness! What time is it? I will be late for work! My eyes open wide. Twisting my head without budging my body, I scramble to track down where that blessed alarm clock is again. There he is; 7:49 am. 7:49 am! Geez! I will never arrive at work on time!

            I aspire to rise up when the thought hits. Whoa! Wait! I’m off today. I must have drifted back to sleep. As a fighter struck with a knockout punch, I hit the pillow in submission. I embrace the thought of sleeping until noon. Unfortunately, something is gnawing at me. I must ignore this feeling. This ache must fade away. I will quietly close my eyes and…no, no, this intrusion will not withdraw. Maybe, if I jump up, relieve myself, and slip back in bed, I can retain my schedule. If I don’t act now though, I will lose any prospect of sleeping in this morning. I am somewhat anxious about rushing through the cold air and my bare feet contacting the hardwood floor. The time is now or never! Today’s boss is attempting to sneak out of the office.

            I grasp the covers so that all the layers fill up my left hand; sheet, two blankets, and the comforter. Though my left hand is not my main hand, this hand will allow my feet the advantage of clear access in braving the cold tundra below. Whoosh! With the skill of a matador, I throw back the covers and clear my feet.  A quick jerk of my buttocks and my stomach muscles, I blast out of bed. With my body shedding heat, Jack Frost introduces himself when I cross the door frame of the bathroom. Introductions don’t stop there as a forgotten foe shows up…the bathroom tile. I advance as a man stepping on a bed of hot coals yet find relief when I touch down on the bathroom rugs. I position myself quickly and efficiently in front of the empty bowl. Wow! I never remember drinking that much.

Jack Frost becomes intimate by attempting to cling upon my outer self. His embrace contains the passion of a child hugging its mother. Thank goodness for youth and a powerful stream.  A little wiggle and the exodus begins. Without hesitation I begin my trek back. I screech off like a drag racer, slipping a little on the bathroom rug. The mishap is not enough to affect my determination. Gaining my balance, I crank up again. Moving towards the bed, the cold gradually numbs my skin. I take choppy steps around the corner of the bed, twist my torso and initiate the descent down to my fluffy Heaven. This time, with my right hand across my body, I clinch onto all the bed paraphernalia, and wrap my entire body. I lay unmoved for a few moments. As I lay stretched out, I calibrate the temperature of my body and survey the quality of the wrap.

Unbelievably, in my journey, the chill hasn’t penetrated too deeply. So, I slip my right hand down the side of the bed and barely out of the covers to switch the heating pad on. I click the controls twice for medium heat, reestablishing my cocoon. Quickly, I snatch my hand back under the covers. I stick that hand under one side of my buttocks in an effort to eliminate the slight chill obtained. The risk flashes in my thoughts of drifting asleep with that hand under me. Failing to remember and my slumber will be replaced with the pain of a thousand needles.

Next, the sheets are not exactly right. I wiggle my body slightly like a baseball pitcher adjusting his hat just before a pitch. A few more shimmies with my left shoulder and I acquire utopia. With the adjustments complete and my position perfect, I convene with the boss’ morning agenda. Thankfully, he hasn’t left the office.

The next time I crack my eyes open, I’m not sure where I am. Under heavy sedation, my eyes slowly scan the room for signs of familiarity. Oh yea, I recognize that bystander. The numbers illuminating are as red as my eyes are suggesting. The noncombatant is showing 9:13 am. No wonder my eyes are heavy. I dozed off another hour and a half. Maybe I ought to get out of bed. If I linger in the bed any longer, I won’t have anything to brag about at work tomorrow. Jane said she and her husband were leaving Friday to see his parents, coming back late tonight. Bob discussed working in his yard, while Ted intended to catch up on some office work. I could create a story, but I’m a terrible liar. I could say that I…

Wow! What happened? I feel as though someone knocked me over the head. I rise up out of bed just enough where I can rest on my elbows. I peek through my eyelids as the thought to rise up germinates. I find no nourishment for that seedling. I collapse as if someone kicked my elbows out from under me. I pick up my conversation before the blackout. So what if I tell everyone I slept all day? I work hard. I inject myself at my job for forty hours. I deserve this day off. Do I have a wife or girlfriend that demands my time or in-laws to impress? I don’t even own a cat or dog that needs to be let out or walked around the block. To be honest, I don’t even have any fish. Maybe that is what is wrong with me? Instead of living life to its fullest, I am lying in this bed…warm… and… snuggly…

What is that sound? Oh, no. Mr. Sandman has collaborated with his friend, the Rain man. Oh, listen to that sound. The rain pings on the tin vents like a musician playing a xylophone. Is there not a more relaxing sound than that? My body transforms into lead as the bed creates its own magnetic pull. The pillow drains what little energy is left. I contemplate what conversation can be created for my cohorts tomorrow. What if I…

I was thwacked over the head again. I attempt to capture a glimpse on my progress. Focusing on the time, I move my eyes and not my head. Almost there…what? 11:45 ? Even if I rise up now and start cooking I would still miss breakfast. Not that I couldn’t miss a meal or two, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Silly, I can have breakfast anytime…

The rain is falling harder. The thunder booms in the background as the lightning flashes ever so softly. Reflecting, I’m not that overweight. I should exercise more. I could exercise today. Why don’t I rise up, get dressed, and take a walk. No, no. I can’t do that. It’s raining. Anyway, all my clothes are dirty. I wonder if my windows are rolled up in my car…

Bang!!! What was that? Was that someone at the door? Or was that…yep, that’s the storm getting closer. I better get up or I won’t sleep any tonight…

Was that my cell phone? I wonder how many rings that was. Oh, well. If it’s urgent they’ll call back…

Do I not live life to its fullest? Is that why I’m not engaged or married? Would I rather sleep on my day off instead of investing in myself? Am I lazy?  I have a job. I work forty hours. What else can I do? I am active in church… every now and then. I visit that one on Green Street. I can’t think of the name of the church, but the pastor is real good. Strange, I can’t think of his name, either. I don’t like the bar scene or drinking, so that’s out. I enjoy movies, but I feel weird watching them alone. For that matter, the same goes for restaurants. The music from the roof quietly embraces my thoughts…

The sun’s initiation has been quenched so far. The storm is still raging and the rain is flowing down the windows. Watching the rain has a draining effect. Inspiration is evaporating as the water pours down the windows. A sensation of emptiness begins to permeate my soul. Its boundary unfolds into the depths of my deliberations. I don’t want to get out of bed…ever. Why can’t life just be simple?

I realize this sensation of emptiness is loneliness. I yearn for someone in my arms today. I could remain in bed all day if another held the same inclination. Accomplishments would be anonymous. Questions from my cohorts would be easier to defend if I spent the day in bed with that someone special. They would probably respond with an “Awww. That’s sweet,” or something of that nature…

The emptiness concentrates in my eyes. My head is buried in my pillow and I stare out the window, watching the rain continuing to flow down the window pane. Why am I alone? I am alone, I realize, by choice. I am still young with most of my hair. I might be a little overweight, but I’m not obese. I have a decent job with good benefits. I have my own transportation.  The only thing wrong with me is I have not wanted to share my life with anyone. I am afraid of someone hurting me. I am afraid of taking a chance to lay my heart out in the open and being rejected. The question though is not allowing someone in, but whether I want to live with this feeling I have now for the rest of my life. I wonder what this emptiness will feel like when I am fifty-five, thirty years from now. Who will hold my hand when I am sick or worse when I am on my death bed?

What about my posterity? If I remain alone, I will miss having the chance to raise little ones of my own. I have seen Ted and his wife with their kids. They are always so absorbed with their kids that they have a hard time finishing conversations with anyone. But for some reason, no one ever minds. I am sure raising kids can be a pain in the neck, but people seem to keep having them. There must be something special about having kids.

I just remembered something. Jane and her husband went out of town this weekend. She told me Friday that her next door neighbor, Mandy, will feed her dogs. Jane told Mandy that I may be coming over today to borrow a book she recommended. Jane has been playing matchmaker with us ever since the summer cookout at their house. Mandy is cute, too. Jane said that Mandy has been asking about me. Mandy will arrive at Jane’s house about 3 o’clock today to feed the dogs. If I take a shower and dress, I will have enough time to meet her over there.

The coldness of my nose is a reminder of my adventure this morning. This incubator has taken me all night and part of the day to create. I almost ruined it once. The rain is steady and steadily washing away any reason to rise up. I adjust my head in my pillow with a little guilt and rationalize I can fetch Mandy’s number from Jane tomorrow. Hey, Mr. Sandman, let’s get back to work.