All the grace

The hour that I lost today, and the work my brain has done over the past two days along with lack of sleep, are now ganging up on me. The light filling the room tells me it is later than I feel. I wake when I wake and I wish I hadn’t woken up but there isn’t much that I can do about it so, I sip the bad coffee. I try to read the novel but my eyelids are heavy and my mind won’t quiet to hear the words lifting off the page. Shssss, I shush myself and close the book and place it on the bedside table. I slide myself flat again and underneath the blankets hugging the pillow under my head. I try to sleep.

The black behind my eyelids is soft and comforting but then the shadows move. I see the man on the horse from the book. His eyes are black and bloodshot. He is more tired than me. I see the flat land he is lost in. Blue skies and dust in its air. I hear the horses’ hooves crunch the dry grass. Then an old lady with white hair and a skirt suit shuffles in front of him, she says, “excuse me, hun.” in a raspy voice. She is rearranging chairs around a table. The table is messy with paper, pens and markers, fidgets, water bottles and empty paper coffee cups. 

We are in a room now. The man is riding off and away, in his flat and dusty land and the sky is over him, baby blue and shining. But still the room is full and walled up in red bricks and the teacher is asking us questions. Her hands swing open as she asks them, palms up as if our answers will fill them. After his voice and hers and that one over there I hear my voice answering. I wonder what the heck I am saying. I feel the heat rise into my face and my voice is a bit frantic. Are they all thinking that I should hush? Oh god, am I trippin? What am I trying to say again? I see they are so done listening. I make myself stop talking. I can’t remember what I said. I should have kept that to myself. I shrink and wonder.

There is a Korean woman in a gray cardigan and slacks now. She stands still and quiet holding tight to her handbag. Her hair is black and short. Her shoes are black with rubber soles. Her expressionless stare is cutting me like scissors. She isn’t really looking at me though, in fact I am almost certain that she can’t see me at all. A crowd of people are walking around her, behind her. She stands like a post as they make their way out of the street in front of her and onto the sidewalk behind her. I hear the traffic now and cars honking and people talking on their phones. The sky is above us but I can’t make it out from here, the buildings are too high and on all sides of us. 

Then there is a large womanish creature sitting at a desk. She has a large long head and face with a pointy jaw. Her hair is light brown and straight as paper. Her fringe lays to both sides of her large green eyes. Her brows lunge out and forward somehow. When she smiles, which she is doing now, Her face widens to an abnormal shape. She is shuffling papers on her desk. She marks them with a red marker. Her fingers are long and her fingernails are shaped like talons and painted bright red. Her neck is long and out in front of her and down, her shoulders hunched several feet out. She reminds me of the “other mother” from Coraline when her true self is being revealed. 

I see my oldest son now, talking with his hands. His face is relaxed and he is happy. He tells me about so many things and all the while he is moving here and there, arms swinging. He is lovely when he is chatty. His movements are a sort of dance and he reaches up occasionally pushing his hair behind his right ear. Like his dad did all those years ago. He is joyous and I want so much to hug him, but he won’t let me. I want to open my eyes and see him in front of me in real life and to just hug him. 

My pen is moving and I am back in the classroom again. I am scooting heavy chairs underneath their tables and twisting yarn in between my fingers and nodding my head in agreement and wondering if that man will ever stop talking and smiling at the girl across the room who is smiling at me and thanking my lucky stars that I get to be here.

My mouth tastes of old coffee. My stomach starts to growl. I wonder about breakfast. I want to read my book. I want to quiet my mind. I want to be in the car and driving home. I want to sleep just a bit longer.