I get up every morning and lie awake in bed for the first few minutes of each day, dreading the impending chores and responsibilities I have to accomplish but also looking forward to what may or may not be in store. I usually lay quietly as my boyfriend snores; it’s serene for the most part, even given the raucous sound. Some mornings though, typically the ones where I have class, I cannot get up for the life of me. The alarm will sound off numerous times before I give in to the inevitable. Eventually, I manage to pry myself from the warmth of my comforters and plod towards the bathroom, but not without first looking out the hallway window to see what kind of weather we’re having. First thought while gazing out the foggy window panes: Why doesn’t the snow fall heavily on the days that I attend class – Lame. The bitter chill from the lack of heat in our hallways quickly forces me into the unheated bathroom.
I shut the door tightly behind me as I immediately turn on the hot water faucet in the tub, and then the shower head. The heat slowly comes up as I stand in the mirror, rubbing the exhaustion out of my eyes. Once the water warms up, I turn on the cold faucet to modulate the temperature and disappear behind a veil of shower curtains and steam. If only I could stand dousing myself in ice cold water, I’d be more than awake. Slowly without notice, I drift off into a place of deep contemplation. The water is but ambient noise as I consider just what the hell I am doing with my life.
Without fail, the thought of classes brings me back to when I was 18 years old and thought I could live forever doing nothing to better myself and immediately, I flash forward into considering the future, wondering just what this degree will do for me. I think about how the spring semester is quickly coming to an end, and I really have no idea what to do from here. To be honest, I never expected to get as far as I have, and now that it is evident, I am in a complete tailspin. Between the thoughts of how there is really no colleges or universities in Maine that offer majors I am interested in and where I am to go next since that is the case, I feel inundated with decisions that are going to be hard. The water pools at my feet as I stand letting the shower run down my face, hoping that the answer will come to me. There’s just no way I can uproot and kiss my responsibilities outside of college good-bye, and just when I think there is no hope, a swift knock on the door brings me right back down into the current reality. As usual, what was supposed to be a fifteen minute endeavor turned into a 30 minute self-evaluation, and I am running late.
After feeding the cats, throwing some laundry into the washer, and finishing up my studying, I tear ass out the door. More so than not, I am late to everything – rarely ever am I early. I start speeding down the road towards the highway, hoping I can make up some lost time. Once I am on the onramp heading towards Bangor, the thoughts of my future creep slowly back in. The skyline melds in front of me as I sit and wonder just when my boyfriend is going to take it one step further, or if that ever will be. Six years of dating and although it isn’t much, I worry that I am wasting my youth with someone who has no intention of making a real commitment. Children have always been an integral part when I think beyond the present; I’ve always wanted a big family - Marriage, a house with a picket fence, two dogs in the yard, the whole deal. Even being as jaded and obscure as I am, there are certain things that people from all walks of life value. As I am reaching the end of one phase of my life, many things are coming into the equation. I feel like time is slowly slipping through my fingers, and alas because of this worrying and cautious nature, I will lose the very best years I have. As I approach Bangor Hogan Road exit, the thoughts fade into the background. It’s time to do work, no time for frivolities like imagining.
Class comes and goes, and I find myself trudging through the partially frozen mud towards the parking lot. The sun barely hangs overhead as I fight with my purse in search of the car keys. Once recovered from the depths of my bag, I plop into the bucket seats, light a cigarette and reach for my phone to call home and check in. I call my mom first and foremost, let her know how my day went, whether or not I did well or subpar at best. I tell her I’m on my way home and that I’ll pick up dinner from Hannaford’s if need be, say love you and hang up. The ride home is no different from the ride there, except that it’s usually the time when I think about everything I’ve contemplated all day, and how it will affect her. How could I ever just up and leave her behind in Maine and be 2-20 states away, attempting to finish my bachelor’s? What if I should get married, what then? Even when I go away for a day to a month, it’s unbearable. I worry uncontrollably, and I don’t see the future being much different unless she’s with me. I envision this future of us living in Florida, content and financially stable. The house is near the beach and we are free of the bills and liens that have been bestowed upon us. For once, my mom is truly happy – something she has not been since my father’s passing. The street lights lining the highway slowly start to come on as I glide down I-95, back north towards home.
I exit the interstate and run into 5 o’clock rush hour: 1 road, four poorly outlined lanes, and roughly 100+ cars trying to get into Old Town with some even heading towards UMO. I turn the radio up and jam out in the bumper to bumper traffic. With thoughts racing faster than cars, the music is like a soundtrack to the moment. I scan through the channels in an effort to stifle the overwhelming thoughts of just how I am going to plan for my future but there’s one problem: I can’t plan for something that has an indefinite amount of contributing variables and like contradictory statements, I feel as though there is no right answer where everyone is happy and I am successful at anything. The lights at the McDonald’s intersection turn green and I finally make it through the most of the congestion.
I roll into my driveway and park the car in front of the weathered garage. It, like I, has seen many years of unforeseeably turbulent and harsh events. I sit in the driver’s seat, taking the last drag of my cigarette before it melts the filter; still, no answer comes to me. The longer I wait, the longer I feel lost. I know I must do something and soon, before there are no options and I resent myself for letting opportunity pass me by. I lock the car, grab my books, and head for the sliding glass doors hoping maybe tomorrow will bring me solace or a solution. Even though I am only 24 years old, I know that I can blink an eye and I’ll be 50 and miserable, wondering just what the fuck happened.
Ah, nice work, erin--you really nail this one.
ReplyDeleteYou create a narrative of your day but it's really more an internal monologue of thoughts recounted and just lightly hung on armature of the events--but both are important here, both events and thoughts. Neither would work well alone, but together you really have something with snap.
What impresses the reader is the sincerity of the tone, the sense we have of your sincere effort to be as honest as possible about the ups, downs, ins, and outs of the topic. You aren't coy, you don't vague out, you don't try to make yourself look good, and you don't let yourself look bad either: the tone remains even, even when the thoughts run up and down the register from hope to confusion to despair.
And you close with a bang--there's a place for 'fuck' and you found it.