Sunday, March 13, 2011

When Time Changes



The morning woke to the annoying sound of power tools all dusty and rusty yet needed to be turned on to trim the few sprigs of green. Unwrapping the scattered sheets, pillows, and blankets, I rise to view the light. Can not tell what time it is and it doesn’t matter because time changed early this morning. In the dark time, it was if the earth stopped and moved backward for an hour.
Making a rousing cup of coffee, pouring unmeasured amounts of powered fake sweetener, and powered white stuff supposedly made from some kind of dairy product, with the dark granules that would color the hot water and create the bitter taste similar to brewed without stirring, I stared at the Atomic clocks. Several are scattered around the house and the time is different on each. So what time is it? I turn on the television which schedule matches one of the clocks, but it doesn’t matter.
Looking around at the overturned cups, ragged up paper napkins and spots of unknown liquid puddles on the floor, it must have been quite a party I thought. Even with age and the lesson taught, the stamina could not keep up with the ones who are young and rebellious and now feeling the results of too much for so long I was somewhat foggy.
Deciding the time was right, I strapped on my ratty jeans and dirty boots without waking anyone. Checking the rooms to make sure no electrical appliances were left on I put on my blue nylon jacket and tied my hair up in a daily ritual all too common.
Into the air, taking a deep breathe of what would become spring, I paused for a moment to enjoy the buds on the thin branches while listening to the neighbors talk about their dogs and yard work plans to spend the time in the sunshine. Walking down the uneven walkway bidding a morning welcome to my yard bunny, arranging the order of transportation on a rug of brown pine needles, I pause again to take in the coming growth burst that will provide shade and shelter during the heat of summer.
A quick walk to the pavement enjoying the wispy clouds like no painter could copy knowing they will soon be blown away, I started by journey on familiar trails yet this time it was different.

2 comments:

Rus Wornom said...

Must've been a hell of a party!

Art said...

how different was it?