the shower

I love that first moment in the morning. Blink. I’m awake. Well, kinda. Blink. Blink. Blink. 

My mind is a piece of printer paper every morning. Clean, fresh, smooth, stark. It’s not a blank canvas, because I hate the texture, and it’s not necessarily blank, for sometimes I wake up from a dream and I’m already writing. 3:30am and my fingers type across that blinding phone screen, eyes just slits to remain half asleep.

But I digress... Mornings. I’m a piece of printer paper. 7:02am alarm and the paper begins its transformation. A moment of panic: did I move my car? Shit, I’m definitely getting a ticket. The paper crinkles slightly. A list starts in my head as I sit passively in a virtual staff meeting: Cam needs more dog food, drop that sweater off at Kelly’s over lunch, call the bank before 5, I’m out of coffee creamer, I hate when I’m out of coffee creamer. The list forms small tears in the paper that was perfect just an hour ago.

Mid morning and a random thought of self-hatred as I zip up my jeans: ugh, that stomach. The paper singes. 

Stress of the work day, too many calls, too much to do, I don’t say no. My mind, that beautiful piece of paper, crinkles and creases.

By evening it’s a ball. So tight and weightless that it floats, suspended in the heat coming from the floor vent, yet deceivingly heavy from all I’ve thought today. I grab this ball and hold it in my palm, staring. Touch the small burn that was my 4pm stressor. Toy with the rip that came from a flash of anxiety over lunch. Better text my therapist. I watch the paper condense.  

Bathroom tiles sting my feet as I bend to turn on the shower. Today was a day, better crank it all the way up. Steam fills the bathroom and my paper ball, my tired mind with too many tabs open, starts to soften… just a bit. 

I hold the paper in my hands as the scalding water washes over us. It cascades, leaving my skin red and raw, but the paper opens, the creases smooth, the burns repair, the tears disappear. That piece of paper, brand new. 

What a funny thing, the shower. My mind returns to what it was this morning as the water splashes around me. Every time. Why is that? 

No time to contemplate because I get this idea. Hurry! With a squeak the water stops and I grab my towel, leaving footprints down the hall as I run to the computer. Write this down, write this down, write this down before you forget. 

I’m cold now, towel loose around me, hair dripping wet. 

Wonder what I’ll think up tomorrow.