Morning Companions

Jackson's eyes snapped open; she heard Routine rustling beside her, a clear indication she was about to be herded to the shower. Her detached body began the climb from the bed and the cool walk to the bathroom. The radio buzzed behind her with the same volume it did every morning. Routine bustled around her freeing her from the need to think about reaching for the hair dryer; he erased the need to really see the table she skirted on the way into the kitchen. Routine ensured the eggs were made, her gym bag was a packed, and her wallet and cell phone were in the proper purse. She was eternally grateful every day at lunch that he oversaw to her nutritional needs.

Routine efficiently ran the the mornings in their house. Jackson willingly allowed him control and disappeared into the background. Routine worked in silence and she smiled at his focus. Even so, Jackson thought she heard sounds echoing through her head. Routine familiar rhythm rocked her body and Jackson began to listen to the sounds else in a daze.
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"He makes eggs every morning. This morning they seem to be a bit fluffier. I wonder how that happened."
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"I think I'd like to find a gentle man. I wonder if that would work..."
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"It's Friday. That means it's movie night. Hope the movie's good."

These sounds didn't even come through as conversation to Jackson. She felt they were on the other side of the side of her cocoon. Perhaps this other person was talking to Routine to keep him company. She certainly wasn't much of a companion in the morning and didn't want to intrude on the conversation.

"I wonder which bus will show up first today. Maybe I should put on my headphones instead of read."
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"We don't normally stop here. Oh...it looks like the "Hey Lady" didn't get on today. Hope she's alright."
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"His skin looks like he uses lotion. Wonder if he does lotion his elbows. I think that might be odd for a man but who am I to say. His hair cut is perfect – every hair in place. Too cute and a bit scary."

Jackson was stunned. The sounds started to pound past her, one right after another – never giving her space to hear the silence. She wondered if it bother Routine but he seemed unphased, continuing his methodical plod into the new day. The conversation's pace increased until there seemed to be no space to draw a breath.

"She looks like she' really running hard when she runs. Her form makes her look like she's not in control of her own body."......."I love living in an active town."........"I mean, really. It's 7:30am – it's not so hot that you need to be only dressed in shorts. But you do look prettier when you run that way.".........."They're in full army gear with backpacks and running the other way. Wonder if that means anything. Wonder if the guys in the shorts would feel inferior if they had to run past the army guys."

Routine resolutely plodded with her, keeping her company as she walked across the campus and headed inside the building. Everyday, she felt him leaving her side about the time she stepped inside and pressed the button of the elevator. He usually just wanted to see her safely to work. As his presence slipped further and further away, the sounds she heard faded with him.


"Why is there something in my mailbox – who in the world leaves things in my mailbox between 5pm and 7am!"
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"Wonder will Jackie come up to say hello today."
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"Coffee sounds like an excellent idea........"
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Silence.

Locked in

I stare calmly out the window and watch the city slide by the bus window. My headphones in my hears but the device attached to them is silent. I sit and listen with a placid face.

Inside the cage of my chest, I feel it, scraching relentlessly to break through. Screeching in an unknown language – there are no words that conveys their meaning, yet I understand each piercing sounds. I control the flinch threatening to cross my face.

The creature beats itself against the walls, bouncing off of them in a fury that threatens to shake my entire being and I feel my muscles clench into stone in order to contain the violence. Frustration screams from the creature in the form of vibrations and furious shaking. I can tell it wants free.

Would be claws would rip my throat out and my breathing becomes shallow in a concentrated effort to give it as little room to move as possible. Maybe if it's constricted, it will stop thrashing and quiet down. But my reasoning fails. It becomes more animated in it's need to lash out and hit. I become more resolute to quiet it.

I long to give it control - to let its words become mine – to give it command over my fists. I long to throw the hissy fit that is raging inside of me. At times I believe that if I could just let it free, it would fly from my body and leave me alone, calm and once again at peace. But I know that this is an illusion, a dangerous plot the creature whispers inside my head at a volume that seems deafening.

I will have to wait it out. The reasoning tone will seep into my thoughts and over the course of the days, I will talk my creature into a state of calm. It will once again become part of my soul and we'll sleep together through the night, comforting each other.

Until then, the battle will be exhausting.

The bus stops and I gather my things to my shoulder. Stepping to the door, I drop the headphones from my ears and cheerfully thank the driver – the same as any other day. The walk to the apartment is as slow and deliberate as any other day. My creature is visible to no one but me. Somehow that comforts both of us.

Black Silk

Finally, it was time to indulge in the most decadent thing she’d ever worn.  She tried to give this to herself once a year.  Once a year she wore nothing but black silk.

Earlier in the day, she had stripped her sun dress over her head, dropped it to the sand next to her bag and froze in pleasure.  Her firm belief had become firmer.  Yes, the first time in the year that the sun and wind caresses every inch of skin you can possibly give to it is one of the sweetest moments of each year.  She had pulled the sensations of the warm sand up through her feet and concentrated on spreading that through her limbs.  Then she had set off for the water. 

She started stripping slowly in preparation for this moment of the year.  First came her forearms and a bit of ankle between her shoe and pant leg.  For a couple weeks, that’s all that she could expose to the cooler air.  But she was so eager for the touch of the sun she indulged the small spots that could handle the weather.

 Gradually the creeping months peeled back her sleeves, revealing the elbows and continuing the slide upwards to her shoulder.  Her pants became lighter and shorter.  She felt less weight pressing her down as the days went on and there was a feeling of giddiness descending around her.  She now had slightly tanned arms and her legs loved the heat of the sun.

As the sun grew hotter, she traded tennis shoes for toenail polish and flip flops.  Straight heavy skirts were cheerfully abandoned for light summer dresses that let air flow through her outfits.  Then the summer dresses came off leaving a bikini. 

Then she traded the bikini for black silk.  Tonight.

She sunk into the water and watched the sky turn darker and darker.  Eventually the entire world wore black and she felt in suspended in it.  She laughed at the moon and pulled herself into a ball.  Flipping, she drove herself down, further into the core.  She could feel blackness slide along her body and she turned, rising towards the surface.   The night air was cool on her face but she could still feel the blackness on her face.  The separation between the two surfaces was less defined here.  She was less defined here.

She lingered as long as she dared and then, drawing in a breath and smoothing her hair back from her forehead, she headed towards the beach.  She started the slow process of dressing again. 

First the bikini and then a sundress….