A Live Wire

I’d like to invite you into my mind, but today, I’d rather not. Instead, let’s meet at Windmill Bistro for a cup of coffee. We never make a reservation, yet they always ask and seat us right away. As we sit there, I’ll probably make a comment about the color of the walls and the light fixtures above the booths. I tend to notice things like that. But let’s shift the focus to you because I need a diversion from the ups and downs I struggle to navigate.

Life feels like a bumper car on a live wire, zapping at the metal roof. I’ll nervously hold my hand over my coffee cup, feeling overwhelmed. More water, please. I’d rather be in my bathtub, but I also value this time with you. Either way, it’s a detour from the superhighway I’ve been on. Ideas keep piling up like smokestacks, choking the air and forcing me to crawl on my elbows. I can’t seem to help it. The manager within keeps showing up at my desk with urgent tasks, and I’m the only worker, so I dive into them, one after the other. No seriously, no more coffee for me.

Anyway, how have you been? Can you share how you’re truly feeling? I can relate to the fears and the feeling that you might not make it through. I might look up at you and say, “Me too.” Sometimes, I wish I could flip this table just to let out some frustration. Charge me, I don’t care. Some things you just have to do without worrying about the consequences, only that it fulfills that primal need to roar—to dig your nails into the earth and breathe in the autumn air, watching the smoke clouds dissipate until they vanish.

I won’t actually throw the table, but I might leave a few dollars as a gesture. It’s been nice to chat, and I genuinely mean it. As I drive home, I’ll wish I could jump over the median, away from the crowds of people, seeking simplicity. It could be simpler, but it isn’t. Or is it?

Love, Jaclynn