June 17, 2018 – It was early morning. The cat had been fed, the dog had been walked, and I had just come back from a Tim’s run. I sat in the living room – sipping my XL double-double and munching on a croissant. Silence. My friend and my enemy. Right now it was my friend. There was no mewing cat, no pacing dog, no loud TV, no noisy neighbours. Just me, sitting on the couch in silence.
I had opened the windows to let in the fresh air and the daylight. The sun shone through the window behind me and a cool breeze blew through the open window in front of me. The wind tugged at the shears as if to say “Come on! Let’s dance!” And the shears couldn’t resist, they moved with careless abandon to some unheard music. It was mesmerizing.
I turned to look at the furniture gracefully touched by the morning sun’s fingers. A thin film of dust covered everything. I turned my eyes back to the window and watched the sheers continue to dance and wave. Every once in a while my gaze would turn towards the furniture, the dust and the forgotten promise to tidy up. I could pretend it was all good. I could lie to friends and family. But there was proof that it wasn’t true. Dusty furniture, rugs that needed vacuuming, DIY projects that just sat in a corner.
I took another sip of coffee and wondered – for the millionth time – how things had turned out this way. For my whole life, I’ve just been along for the ride and very rarely took the reigns. I just coasted and went with the flow. When I did take control it was scary and exhilarating. But it was unsustainable. I guess I’m just not wired that way.
But I suffer from the “why not me?” syndrome. How come things happen for other people and not me? How come my brother and sisters are all well off and I’m living in a double-wide with my mother? My thoughts continued to spiral downward towards the darkness. The dancing sheers and warm, welcoming sunlight were forgotten.
I heard some shuffling from my mother’s room. The cat meowed. The dog raised his head from his bed. Signs of life. Time to put my thoughts back into the box and allow them to collect some more dust.
Diary of a DOW 