Per the usual, woke up this morning, found myself spooning my precious cat, and for an instant was unsure of where I was. Then I heard my dad downstairs. I could hear the hum of the microwave as he warmed milk, and the weird brrrr of the coffee machine as it sputtered out coffee. A few minutes later I hear him slowly padding up the stairs, a few of them creaking as he passed. I hear him enter my room and the soft thump as he sets a mug of hot coffee on my nightstand. Without opening my eyes, I say thank you.
This is the morning here. Coffee, sometimes jumping into bed with mom and having my feet washed by my fur sister, getting dressed, then driving into town for more coffee.
Its Saturday, and though not huge, we decide to check out the Saturday Market. A total of one street block, two foot traffic lanes wide. The town has dropped precautions and full faces are displayed proudly. Those choosing to maintain safety still sport their cute and personalized masks, …hanging just below their noses. Walking the streets like times before is surreal, but it would seem that after a year of being mandated to keep six feet apart people no longer seem to remember personal space politeness.
Pops and I decide to walk back home from town. A 5 mile trek through streets and trees. Normally nothing to sweat about, other than the million degree blazing sun. Wrong foot attire strikes with a vengeance once the commitment has been made. Dad says that we can call mom to pick us up at any time. I raise the Korean Fighting fist and say, “no! Rose Garden right?” (In reference to the time I powered through a leisurely, horrible walk, in which I threw my hip out, to make it to the damned Rose Gardens. …and then, of course, I had to walk back home…) By the time we make it home I am pretty sure my feet are going to explode from massive blisterization.
I take a shower, and then crawl in for a nap. I think its the first nap I have unapologetically taken in months. Not burdened by guilt that I could be spending my time more productively.