Windy night wishes

A cold wind is howling outside.  I lay here in the deep darkness of the early morning, awake and listening.  The wind ebbs and flows like waves on the ocean shore. The rain makes a soft drum beat on the roof and occasionally clatters against the window near my head. The house creaks and groans when a strong wind blows and almost seems to be leaning into it to keep its footing.  Wrapped in warm blankets, my head on a soft pillow, I am content to be comfortable, dry, and safe from the weather.

In an effort to appreciate this moment, I close my eyes and imagine being outside.  Walking along the dark road, would be cold,  and I would just barely be hiding my face from the raw edge of the early winter wind. Chilled to the bone by wind and rain I would trudge along, tired and alone.  My feet are wet and the rain is beating upon my shoulders, occasionally trickling down my neck and sending chills through my body. Desperate and with no prospects for relief, I stop and sit under a large tree to rest.  I close my eyes and in a barely audible whisper, wish that I could be somewhere warm and dry.

When I open my eyes I am in my bed, looking into the early morning darkness again, comfortable and cozy.  With my wife cuddled beside me quietly breathing, I am content, happy and now a little sleepy.  As drowsiness begins to take a firm hold, random images and disconnected thoughts prance through my mind. I fade off into a restful slumber thinking how grand it is to have the power to make wishes come true.

My Guitar

The case sits unopened in front of me.  The textured, chocolate brown, faux-leather material covers every surface giving the case a finished, professional look. The symmetric curves along either side of the case give it a certain feminine, graceful, hourglass appearance.  That's appropriate because the instrument inside has a decidedly feminine name, a name that no one really knows and one that I'm reluctant to share. Keeping her name to myself is part of what makes my relationship with this particular instrument special and intimate.  A time will come when I will introduce her to others, but not now, probably not very soon.

There are pages of sheet music on the table, patiently waiting to guide me through the sequence of finger positions, and tempos that will release warm tones filled with new musical energy into the world. To the uninitiated, the music looks like  a complex collection of lines, and dots, letters, symbols and hash tags.  To those who know the secrets, it is a treasure map that holds the directions to a calm, relaxing place. A place where the treasure is inner peace and and a deep and of happiness and contentment.

There are four brass latches on the case.  They are mounted at measured intervals around the front side and are hanging open and relaxed, temporarily relieved of their duty to keep the lid and the contents of this case secure. I reach out to the case with a certain level of expectation, much like what I feel when I smell freshly brewed warm coffee on a cool fall morning.  I know I'm going to enjoy what's coming.

As I lift open the lid, the sight of the rich brown spruce and maple wood surrounded by the dark red, plush padding pleases my eye.  The contrasting colors of the beige top, dark brown, slightly maroon neck and sides, and white trim give the instrument an elegant appearance worthy of a fine piece of art.  There is something special about a beautiful instrument that foreshadows the wonderful sound it is capable of producing in the right hands.  

The strings running the length of the guitar are a bright copper color but I notice they are showing early signs of tarnish and wear.  They will need replacing soon.  This causes the same paternal urge to remedy the situation that one gets when your child has a dirty face and needs to have it cleaned up, but not until after playtime has ended.

There is a pleasant, slightly musky smell of rosewood and spruce that float up out of the case increasing my excitement and anticipation.  I carefully lift the guitar out of the case and feel the smoothness of the neck in my left hand as I set the body securely in my lap and wrap my arm around the top, a motion that reminds me of settling a small child in my lap for a bedtime story.  The embrace is as natural and comfortable as a hug from a dear friend.

With my right-hand thumb, I gently pluck each string and am rewarded with a soft tone assigned to each. The calloused fingertips of my left hand push down on the strings along the neck changing their tones in quick succession as I work through a memorized scale.  I'm ready to start to play.  I look over at the music and consider where to begin this journey.  The journey will not be very long today but along the way I plan to lose stress, care, and on a really good day, myself.

Darkness and Light

When I arrived at the gym it was cold and dark.  The parking lot was blanketed by the gloomy silence of the early, predawn morning. The exact time was impossible to estimate even if I cared to know.  A few scattered light posts illuminated random areas of the parking lot with a dim yellow glow.  Aside from the methodical activity of a truck driver across the parking lot preparing for an early start, everything was silent and sleepy. As I looked over at my gym bag in the passenger seat the drudgery of my morning routine weighed heavily on my mind.  Nonetheless, I dragged myself into the building to run a few miles on the treadmill.

Now, an hour later, I having finished my morning ritual and I'm stepping out of the gym into the bright sunlight of a beautiful crisp morning.  While I was busy with my workout, the sun rose across the horizon and gave birth to a beautiful, bright new day.  My body is warm with the afterglow of a solid workout and a hot shower.  My cardiovascular engine continues radiating heat into the atmosphere as it slowly throttles back to a normal activity level .  The air is crisp and I have a sense that it is chilly but I don’t feel the coolness.  The familiar surroundings of the parking lot have transformed in the span of an hour.  Color and shape are all visible now in the natural light and I have an intense, endorphin induced excitement at the potential the day holds .  The sky is bright and clear.  My body attracts the sunshine like a magnet and I feel plugged in as I absorb the energy.  My step is light and nimble as I walk further into the parking lot exposing myself to even more of the sun's warm rays.  I fill my lungs with this freshness of this brand new day.  This clean, cool air is a delight after an hour in the stuffy, sweaty, atmosphere that lingers in the gym and locker room.  There is a pleasant tingle in my lungs as I exhale.  It triggers a wave of euphoria that envelops my entire soul and causes a reflexive smile that may be the only external hint of my appreciation of this moment.

I am aware that I am experiencing part runner’s high combined with a simple awe at the beauty of a this bright day. My senses are sharp and I perceive details more clearly. The sky is a vibrant blue and is tastefully accented with an occasional pure white cloud.  A light frost has formed white, geometric patterns on the red metal of my car.  I make a deliberate effort to slow down and allow myself a moment to be impressed with this easily overlooked, fleeting work of delicate art.  One more deep breath elicits another smile that I share with a passing athlete at the front end of his workout.

Pausing for one last time for a moment, I consider the contrast between my feelings now and how I felt at the front of my workout.  This will be a morning I recall when I need a reminder that after the darkness there is always a dawn.

Homeward bound

It is early in the morning, dark and chilly.  As drive up to the concrete labyrinth that houses the rental cars, I think about my family on the other side of the country and how their day is well underway. I'm anxious to get home but there is nothing I can do to move the process along more quickly.  I am aware that at the entrance to this parking garage I will be swallowed by the incomprehensible machinery of the transportation system.  I will be transformed from an individual into the product.  It is something I have learned to tolerate because of the necessity to travel.  The excitement I used to feel at this moment is just a pleasant, distant memory.  After taking a couple of deep breaths I manage to reduce my stress level slightly and I pull into the structure.

I navigate through the turns and ramps and finally pull into the rental car return area designated by bright yellow letters as belonging to HERTZ.  One of the attendants, bundled against the chilly morning, begins waving at me from the far end of the area.  He is directing me into a particular parking lane.  Maybe this guy used to work on the ground crew before the rental car company.  His arms over his head beckon me forward as if he was marshaling an airplane into a gate rather than the Ford Explorer into a parking space. I imagine him holding orange flashlights and that I am a pilot of an airliner arriving home after a long trip.  As soon as I put the car into park the fantasy ends and he moves around behind me to marshal the next vehicle into place.  I suppose he is happy to be moving around and staying warm.  Realizing that my day is just beginning, I wonder briefly if he is at the start or end of his shift.

I step out of the car, the customary routine begins.  A young lady wearing a headscarf and a heavy winter jacket, scans a barcode on the windshield. She consults the screen on her device and without making any eye-contact asks “How was the car Mr….  Limmer?”.  Her voice is light, pleasant and carries an easily detectable middle-eastern accent.  I say "fine".  I have gotten over correcting the pronunciation of my name or providing any real detail about the vehicle's performance.  The reality is that neither of us really cares to have a conversation at this hour and this is simply part of the ritual. 

As she walks around the vehicle checking for serious damage she asks “Did you buy gas?” and I respond in the affirmative.  She reminds me to “…please double check for all your belongings”.   The handheld device vibrates and makes a subtle grinding sound before spitting out the receipt which she tears off and hands to me.  In an insincere, tired voice that I’m sure has repeated the phrase a hundred times since the beginning of what has probably been a long, overnight shift she says “Thank you for renting from Hertz.”  The entire transaction is now complete and my attendant moves on to the next vehicle in line.  I make my way through the parking garage, up the maze of escalators and to the shuttle bus.  I'm on my way home.