Disturbing the Peace
I jolt awake with a gasp. Was that Brad's truck starting?
Catching my breath, I lay still in the early morning silence, straining to listen. No, not his truck. Reaching over I pat his side of the bed, seeking the warmth of his sleeping body. Instead, I feel the cool, crisp sheets.
Another morning that I've missed him leaving.
Yawning to the point my jaw nearly unhinges; I try to untangle myself and roll onto my side to look at the clock. Sure enough, it is after eight o'clock. Yet again, I’ve managed to sleep through both of our alarms. Bless him for getting up and getting out the door. Guess it’s my turn. Groaning again, I scrunch up my pillow and grab my phone. Time to see what the day holds. Oh yeah- a whole lot of nothing. Not even worth it to open my calendar app. I used to live by what was on the calendar. These days, I have to find things to fill my time instead of having it filled by others.
I get to lay in bed and think about profound things like- why does getting up take a little bit longer each morning? I swear, the closer I get to forty, the longer it takes. In my teens and twenties, I’d pop up like a slice of toast, hit the shower and be out the door in under ten minutes. Not so much anymore. It is now an involved process. Stretching, grunting, slowly changing positions commences. Ultimately leading to me sitting on the edge of the bed.
Coffee is what gets me out of bed most mornings. That and tiny dogs barking to be let outside. Today will be no different. The coffee calls me like an ancient siren.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, I’m up. Coffee acquired, robe on, porch ready. Our dogs, Coco and Aggie (Chanel and Christie of course), eagerly follow me out into the warm morning sun. It isn’t hot yet, but it will be soon enough. This morning routine has settled on me easily and we now look forward to it. A month ago, I wouldn’t have thought so. I've learned to enjoy peace and quiet in the mornings.
Having always been more than a little nibby, getting to sit and watch my neighbors from the porch is right up my alley. The dogs love watching all the neighbors too. We hide out on the lanai and spy on the goings on. Despite living in a community filled with retirees, there is always something going on. It may sound boring to most, but we live for it.
Gliding into the day feels like a luxury. One I’ve not had for a VERY long time.
You see, three months ago, I would have already been sitting in my cube or rushing into the first meeting of the day. The ninety-minute, white-knuckle commute added to the daily adventure. Traffic into Miami gets interesting in the mornings. Not in a fun way either. More in an "am I getting an ulcer?" kind of interesting. Don’t get me wrong- I thought I was living the dream. Until one day I wasn’t. My routine crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.
That was a moment frozen in time. It was an average Wednesday, sitting in my cube, fixing yet another presentation for a colleague when I got a message that my boss needed me ASAP. I assumed it was for our upcoming meetings with clients the next day. Nope! I was one of the lucky dozen or so getting laid off. Effective immediately, in a “grab your bag and potted plant, security is waiting for you” style.
Before you get too sad for me, it was actually okay. I got a more than generous severance. Benefits were covered by my husband, Brad, and we lead a normal lifestyle (i.e. live within our means or is that not normal?). Basically, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me. I mean yeah- I bawled like a baby for a full day and had more wine than I should have at dinner that night. Then I realized, I didn’t even like that job. In fact, I hated working there. A healthy dose of perspective (thanks babe!) and I came to the conclusion, that this might be my shot to figure out the burning question- what so I really want to do? Time for some in-depth soul searching.
I’m still going through my teenage list- florist, marine biologist, dog walker. The list goes on and on. The funny thing is, I never really decided what I wanted to be when I grew up. A generic degree in Business and Marketing was my major. I simply fell into my job, hopped one thing into the other, and there I landed. Initially, it seemed to be exactly what I was looking for. There were more opportunities to use my degree than other jobs in the past. But over time, it began to shift and it began to feel mundane. Who doesn't dream of building presentation decks and finding the perfect graphic? I cannot claim it was a passion, referring to it as a (seemingly) safe path is a better description. Which obviously backfired.
The looming question remains: What do I want to do? At the moment, drinking coffee in the sun sounds right. My future can be figured out later after I am properly caffeinated.
I’m stretched out on the chaise lounge, Coco under my knees and Aggie tucked under one arm. My coffee is empty and we’re too cozy for me to consider getting up. A stack of books on the side table beckons me. I turn and start combing through. Reading is my favorite hobby, and I gobble up books by the dozens. Mysteries are the best. Especially if I can’t figure out who did it. Finalizing my choice- a thriller set in an abandoned logging town, I lean back in my chair to read for a while.
“Helllllooooooo neighbor!” rings out loudly, echoing across the lawn. It’s a shrill, nasal voice.
Edna has spotted me. The dogs go bananas, spinning in circles, yipping, and barking. It's an understatement to say, they’re not huge fans of hers. Must have picked that up from me-don't they say dogs take after their owners?
“Hang on one sec, Edna!” I reluctantly call, then usher the dogs into the house. Pausing before turning around, I make sure my robe is secure. Flashing my 80-year-old, gossipy neighbor is not on the to-do list this morning. All put together with a fake smile slapped on my face. I return to the porch, turning in time to see Edna at the edge of the walk. She moves quickly for an octogenarian in need of a hip replacement.
“No job yet, huh?” Edna begins directly. She’s known for her heat-seeking conversation techniques. My brain begins flashing warning signals. Oh God, she’s showing no mercy this morning.
“Well, I’m taking it slow. I’ve been enjoying a little bit of a break,” I coolly snap back, immediately offended. My cheeks warm, and I can feel the flush spreading. A scowl replaces my smile. I am trying to keep my cool, but it is way too early for this. I’m not nearly caffeinated enough for a verbal sparring match.
Edna huffs loudly and says, “I’d think you’d want to get right back to it, with the way you all are these days.”
Um, no idea what that is supposed to mean. So, I will proceed lightly. “We decided that it is okay for me to take the time at home for now.”
“Oh, how nice dear. Perhaps you can use that time to work on the house,” she runs her eyes over the front of our house and down the side. The "dear" seems as disingenuous as a "bless your heart" would have. Edna's brow is furrowed, her arms are crossed. Disapproval written boldly across her face.
Again, yikes. I don’t know what to do with that. “It will be nice to have some free time. There’s always a to-do list. Well Edna, as usual, it’s been a delight, but I’ve got to get crackin' on that list.”
Sensing she’s getting the brush off, Edna tenses but wraps up the conversation with a terse, “I’ll see you soon,” and heads home. Again, moving with deceptive speed. At the end of my walk, she points at the base of my tree, indicating the wreath of weeds. With an obnoxious finger wave, she finally walks down the street. I briefly consider sending out a text to let our other neighbors know she's out and about. A quick pat down before I realize, I have no idea where my phone is.
I do love our little neighborhood for the most part but geez. There are moments when I wish we had a little more space or privacy. How would I describe it other than boundaries? The kind that doesn't require a fence line. I’m sure Edna will find a way to tattle on me to my husband when he gets home. This is a pattern. We always have a neighbor that tattles on me for something or another. Anyhow, better go hide in the house or pretend to work on a nonexistent to-do list.
