Saturday, April 9, 2011

sleeping through life

No new posts...

yes, i fear it is so

I am not feeling like capitalizing and punctuating because it is 0640 hours and i have not been to bed so bear with me.

I am working nights at Waterford 3 nuclear plant... one of the largest two-loop pressurized water reactors in the nation.

and that fact is not relevant to this story except to say that for a moment this evening while i was walking around inside the reactor containment building wearing a funny white suit and a hard hat... i woke up for a minute.

it is only when i awaken for a minute that i realize that i am living my life asleep... a zombie going through the paces
talking walking storytelling looking driving eating sleeping waking and all of it in a stupor

I don't know what exactly rousted small parts of my brain (who quickly shrank back to their dormant state) but something did.

i can actually put in words what it was that i felt while i was awake... but it was a growing discontent...

I listened to music on the way home... for some of you this is not much, but i am not a music listener. i am a silence enjoyer and a thinker, music is charged with an emotion and an energy for me, it carries me to a place and time... tonight, i went to a house that i house-sat when i was 18 while the family was in England, I went to an apartment building in Russellville, and i went on a 2003 road trip to Iowa in a 1986 AMC eagle station wagon... I went on a date in Sioux City Iowa and i relived the winter of 2006.

then i went to WinnDixie on my way home to buy some breakfast beverages, and i saw an old man buying flowers at 6:15 in the morning on a Saturday. (i could still feel the remnants of my true consciousness; i was not yet asleep again )

he was an old man in his 80s wearing the kind of shirts that only an old man or a barber can pull off... the shirts that have a square tail and four pockets cabana style ("square tail shirts for round bellied men" my dad always says) He shuffled in his loafers and worn Levis 501 jeans and his cabana shirt... Smelling of Bay Rum and clove aftershave... freshly shaven well put together buying flowers at 6 in the morning on a saturday..."Can you check me out?" I don't know how to run one of these damn things" he said to the teenage girl who was manning the Self Checkout line, which was the only line open at 6:15

I wrote his story there in my head (listening to Radiohead "High and Dry" partially entranced and living in 2003 in my stationwagon)

I hope he buys flowers for his wife every Saturday and always has.

I watched him slowly shuffle to his truck which was parked in the handicapped space and put the flowers in the back seat. something about his demeanor and his sadness told me that he was not going home to give the flowers to his wife... he was driving to a lonely field full of stone monuments... to give the flowers to his wife... a guttering flame of undying love and an aching sad-happy heart... spending some time with the love of his life.

I truly hope that it was her birthday and that she was sleeping late and he was merely buying the fresh flowers to have in a vase on the tray as he delivered her breakfast in bed...

What the heck is this about?

April 9, 2011...

a day on which i woke up for a moment.

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