Waking Up

Fighting a two-ton fatigue from interrupting a pleasant catch up with Morgan and her recent knee replacement surgery, the snow-colored hair accumulating in piles on my lap like the Titanic-sized bergs lining our streets and parking lots murdering any chance of finding a space to scoot from car to salon and avoid the frigid air that obliterates our little borough’s quaintness and replaces it with menacing tundra ever more demoralizing with each new snowfall and broken promise of sunlight, warmth, and an early spring–thanks for nothing Punxsutawney Phil–I glimpse a sliver of euphoria in the recesses of my borderline sleep/wakeful state.

Did the shedding of curls, sense of renewal, growth, the promise of new beginnings have something to do with it?

What about it being Friday and the kickoff of a restful…? Scratch that. Impossible. Staring down a four sport back-to-back weekend chocked full of shuttling to and fro, incessant reminders to bring water, gear, and not leave behind belongings.

Maybe the imminent return of my better half from a week long jaunt in search of Columbia’s, nay the world’s, NEXT GREAT ACTOR.

Or simply the pleasure of a colorful, jazz-infused workspace with the added bonus of having to sidestep a newly installed artist’s opening reception along the corridors whilst pawing at free and delightfully savory hors d’oeuvres.

Pondering all of this on the verge of a big sleep, I congratulated Morgan on her courageous comeback, having rejoined the ranks of the ambulatory. I complimented her meticulousness. Morgan the Meticulous, I ruminated. Or what about The Meticulous Morgan? I liked them both equally as much and the thought of her attentiveness, care, and dexterity with a pair of scissors…all of this reminded me of Houdini, superheroes, Birdman.

Amidst the gentle hum of clippers on the back of my neck coaxing me into a blissful twilight, a spiritual awakening.

As if emerging from an endless tunnel, a vicious circle, rinse and repeat.

Everything now electrified with excitement, possibility, passion.

Morgan: Do you feel lighter?

I: Yes. In fact, I do.

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