Quotidian Musings

Eyelids flutter, sheets rustle signifying another waking moment. Life. It carries us aloft without consent, regardless of complaint. Rapturous anticipation does not hasten an event’s arrival; foot-dragging dread slows it not a jot. The day arrives just as intended, just as expected, without fanfare or warning.

So today I stare into the mirror and brush the tresses which daily grow, yet remain much the same. The hum of the daily routine varies with the advent of oral surgery for one, a new math lesson for another, emotional mountain-climbing for a third, and so on. Dust still settles on the bureau as usual, though a hastily scrawled reminder of medicinal needs floats down in its midst.

Temperature readings near the 100 mark provoke tendencies to sit amongst the indoor coolness without moving, yet a heaving tummy or throbbing cheek prompt sprinting and diving. A washcloth moistened with coolness serves to cleanse and comfort in one sweeping motion. Beads of sweat forming on a brow betray the one posing as Florence Nightingale. The alchemy of conditioning hot air to cool performed by one allows another to sip hot tea for solace without melting into a puddle thus allowing the continued doling out comfort to a third. (“…as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”)

Quiet repose gives the mind license to wander, yet coupled with poorly-slept nights one finds little strength for navigation. Thus, floating ensues and musing reigns where reasoned lists and scheduled activity should lead. Memories flood in recalling other bedside vigils, post-surgical care-giving, and days filled with needs met by a body starved for sleep. I sink down, lids drop reflexively, mind spreads wings … oh to be at the seashore just now …

Walking along the seaside mementos wash ashore. Bending, grasping, inspecting, and assessing fills wondrous minutes of pleasure. The finest of treasures fall from between fingers to hide safely in the cotton-pouched nooks in a cloak. Oft times such mesmerizing bits of minutiae lie forgotten until the next time a chilly hand seeks refuge from the wind, possibly many months or even years hence. Ah … once finger pad meets sandy remnant the mind quickly opens sequestered thoughts of bygone events. The tittle of sand wedged alongside the fragment of shell barely glossed with the iridescence of a former dweller does not impart information of the geography or biology of the shell, but rather the memory of the tang in the air, the warmth of a hand-clasping grip, the stunning display at sunset. The heart mingles with the mind and reproduces joy met elsewhere, yet magically unearthed in clear detail in this very moment. That bit of flotsam from a shoreline encapsulates a moment of pure rapture safely stored in the heart for future pondering and delight.

Not only sight or touch, but also scent and sound produce a time-warped return. That “special” song still causes one to freeze and smile uncontrollably locking eyes with that “special” someone. Pumpkin pies emit much more than a sweet aroma portending a treat at meal’s end. Memories release into the brain as the olfactory mechanisms import the key. Our bodies possess abilities far beyond those needed merely to sustain life from this moment to the next. Each moment we breathe in we upload a potential trigger for a future rerun of this present. Oh, if only all the reruns could be solely of the beautiful … but surely that need not be mentioned or dwelt upon in a day devoted to relieving pain and pureeing meals. One merely hopes that the supping of a “deluxe” dollop of mashed potatoes and rutabagas laced with goat cheese today leads to recollections most delicious tomorrow.

I hear the call of one in need. I shall close out this mental dawdle and return to the tasks at hand, which just may lend me a few moments of blissful reminiscence somewhere down the path of this quotidian journey.