When the first echoes of my alarm clock disturb me from slumber a series of disjointed thoughts surface. First: shut up shut up shut up – I know I know, I need to get up. But afterward, any matter of cranial piffle will pile in.
In these liquid moments, I find some of my favorite words. Perhaps because they are relatively undistilled.
With indecipherable expletives drooling from my mouth, I reach over to my nightstand and slide my finger along the back of my phone case – wondering why the noise persists. Each time I fail to silence it, the volume increases. Only after the required number of hand spasms am I able to get the electronic trumpeter to shut up.
Then the race begins.
I scribble as much of what I remember onto a nearby legal pad. Sentences, fragments of sentences, words, arrangements of letters. Until I begin to stabilize. The mind removes the plug and the thoughts begin to drain. I’m not taking on water, I’m fighting to retain it. But the best I can muster is filling a bucket at a time and spilling it onto the page.
The water evaporates and only solid thoughts remain. Thoughts about the day ahead. Thoughts about how many words were lost. Thoughts about how many words I need.
Almost sad, the remaining thoughts drift out to sea. And, with my toes buried in the sands of the shore, I am forced to watch. But I’m not sad for long because forgetting is easy. The thoughts dissipate and I forget I am on the shore.
I go. I do the day. The motions continue. I find my way home. I find my way to the desk. I find my pen. And I long to be carried back out to sea.