The agony of waking up pinches my body. Reality approaches, pulling me out of my dreams. My body signals for me to regain consciousness. I fight to stay but lose every night.
Thoughts ricochet on walls made of memory. Finding my bearing, I retrace my consciousness from yesterday. I open my right eye and stare at the empty white ceiling above.
Home is a memory. An idea, merely an illusion.
Crossing into the plains of Indiana. Everything opens up. No mountains or trees. Natural providers of cover and protection. A vast horizontal plain. Stretching out like the ocean. Where the horizon and sky both touch.
Contempt is met moving to Kansas. In the nine months of dwell time looking for work, fitness, friendships and money are absent. Life is four corners and a ceiling. Silence lingers through the winter and summer months. Drafting and creating tasks to stay busy. The job in Kansas was both a curse and a miracle. Ceding all previous activities that bring personal joy. Money might no longer be a problem, but memorable experiences with good company are.
Driving westward, daydreaming is quite a problem. The long-distance feeds a question. Did I make the right decision?
The first time a supercell migrated through the town of Salina, everything shook. Like watching bombs detonate in the distance. Lightning traces through the dark void of night. Fracturing through the sky like the branches on a tree.
Mid-May brings a rising sound of sirens. Earsplitting. Get to cover, preferably below ground. About 30 minutes south, F5 tornadoes prefer this route. A tradition of destruction. I live here now. I am no stranger to these ways of life.
Lonesome Lake, New Hampshire. Walking across nature’s frozen tapestry. The storm cloaks the sky, but the spirit of the mountain still silhouettes in the background.
Loneliness is adjacent and present. Diffusing in the air. Anxiety ramps up and runs through the body like a toxin. There are only strangers and unfamiliar faces.
I have an apartment all to myself for $750 a month accompanied by Brown Recluse spiders. No friends, no relatives, no connections. No history. Just merely working and living.
A month in, the world goes into lockdown. Businesses are emptied and people maintain small distances from one another. A simple cough turns heads. The sick are villains. Travelers are chastised as martyrs and virus emissaries. Confusion runs amok with violence.
Pandamonium sets in and people cling to their families. Segregating each other and abandoning connection. Arguments take place at the grocery store. At the counter, words are empty.
“Thank you,” people whisper to cashiers as they risk their lives to check out beleaguered and scared customers.
In order to cope with the calamity, traditional methods are the remedy. Long hours of meditation. Feeling the earth beneath my feet. The beautiful taste of hot coffee in the morning. Savoring a warm meal. Hot running water. A bed to sleep in. Reciting personal poetry absent writing. Embracing art. Just like from the beginning.
Just like all the times before.