in my room

I’m sitting here on a day without work – and those days will be piling up soon – pondering the variety of forward-motion avenues appearing before me. With not a smidge of worry about the risk of boredom. No wondering, “Whatever will I do with all that time?” Nah. There’s none of that.

Even with only five house plants to water, every other week. Even with vacuuming the apartment Sunday mornings, all of 20 minutes of the week accounted for. The smart phone mostly quiet, an honoring of the price of gas by not driving alot. Passing on the movie theater, rarely out to a Mexican restaurant. I can walk to the library.

And yet, the variety of forward-motion avenues opening before me is vast. I can go back to school, get my Master’s – in this room. I can try really hard to learn new skills, say, coding – in this room. I can create amazingly wonderful background soundtracks for each day – yesterday’s was “Jump” by Van Halen, “I’ll Take You There” by the Staple Singers, and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” with Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell – and rock on right here in this room. Dance the day away, and if you need me call me, and nothing gets me down (‘cept technology a little).

In Massachusetts, back when I lived there, you’d see these bumper stickers – “So many pedestrians, so little time.” That’s probably not the best example as a simile for what I’m talking about, but perhaps you get the picture.

Every day is precious. Every day is the biggest gift in the world. There must be a hundred wonderful and powerful and enchanting books in this room winking at me. They ask, “Whatcha doing at 10 tomorrow morning, kid?” And I see myself answering, “I don’t know Brah (or Sis), I’m really busy.”