The sense of nothing

My birthday came and went. A wind blown through a sheer white curtain. As I was doing laundry today, I heard a noise above my head. A fluttering of wings. An impatience of flight. I jumped at the sound. tick tick tick. Looking up, I noticed that it was a dragonfly. The dragonfly was red. The jeep in the garage is red. Some people say seeing dragonflies means good fortune. What does it mean when you see one a week after your birthday banging against a ceiling? tick tick tick. My eyes flicked from the dragonfly above to the open air directly behind it. Why wouldn’t it just turn around and leave? The sound of the washing machine mixed with the sound of the generator in the background. The laundry room sounded like a construction site. The power had gone out three times today. The generator emitted a sound of annoyance. The dragonfly kept ignoring the sun and the water hose draped over the chairs that were peeling and the fence with the passion fruit vine wrapped around it, half dead half alive. tick tick tick.

My feet have permanent flip flop tan lines. My skin has gulped in the sun this week and turned to the color of a tree stump. Some people use the lines of one’s palm to tell the future. I imagine if you cut off your hand there will be rings inside of your arm. Is it better for a tree stump to have more lines or less? Is living a hundred years better than only living ten?

Blue curtains. Today I noticed that the flowers needed to be watered. The plants leaned on each other. A forward fold into a half-way lift. I need to water the flowers today. The day started with a yoga class. During the last 15 minutes of the class, I stared in awe at my body’s sweat outline on the towel. I no longer place my yoga mat where I can see the clock because I start counting the minutes. Rationalizing. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. After yoga, I ran errands. All anyone does on this planet is shop and drive around. Aren’t we bored of it? No coffee for me today. I attempted to coast off the endorphins from yoga. Instead I dozed off while reading a book. I woke up with the right side of my neck feeling like someone stuck their hand inside to turn the oven on. The sun turns the sky to a certain color and I know it’s time for my shower. I gather my things for the bathroom. Things things things, so many things. My eye catches the pink hibiscus outside of the window. Leaves sucked dry. A weeping willow. I had almost forgotten to take care of something that I said I loved. A piece of creation plucked and put inside of a pot. I watered the plants. I imagine the plants say thank you while the water rushes to their roots. Roots that will never feel the Earth. I showered and stared at the rose bushes next to the bathroom window. They all bloomed at the same time. Red. Yellow. Pink. A sweetness. A mosquito bite my ankle after I got out the shower. My blood for a life. I rub my finger over the itchy bump. A reminder of the present moment.

With love and understanding,

T.