I had a late start that morning. My body nor my mind wanted to wake up. For fear of the alarm not ringing again, I found the will to unglue my eyes slowly and the strength to peel my upper back from the bed vertebrae by vertebrae. I wiggled my toes, moved my feet, and slid them off to my bedside. I stretched my legs until my feet found their slippers, and with great slug, I pushed my hands against the bed and stood up. I took a deep breath and quickly dressed the bed. I rushed my body into my workout clothes and hurried to the bathroom. Having brushed my teeth, I set my coffee and had my morning prayer.
Following a debate on whether I would continue the checklist or call it a day, my distress needed therapy, so I checked the next box. I vacuumed. I cooked. I cleaned the kitchen. I cleaned the bathroom. I watered the plants. As I was watering the plants, I realized how out of touch I was at that moment. As the water sprinkled out of the watering can, I noticed how the water met the soil, how the pot felt in my hand, how I hadn’t been present a moment since I began rushing through my list. The thought of life came to me. And I questioned, had I fallen into a trap and suddenly realized it? Was this it, getting through the days checklist, going to bed, and starting all over again? Was life just a big checklist? I’d been in constant hurry. If the finish line is my last breath, why am I racing toward it?
by Jessica G Ferrer
Connect on socials:
If you would like to contribute to the running of my page, you can donate here:
Visuals, art, and photography by Jessica G Ferrer unless otherwise stated.