Tues, Dec 11
... The trappings of love
It's late. Kat picked me up from work tonight around 11:30, and we went to BP's for supper, and we just got home not long ago.
The house is almost silent, except for the humming of the computer and the clicking of the keys. "Foolish Games" by Jewel is playing quietly from my computer speakers, but other than that, there's no noise. The room is almost warm, but basement-cold enough for me to still need my sweatshirt, and a blanket if I was motivated enough to get up and wrap myself in it. My bed is looking invitingly warm and comfy, the blue duvet rumpled over the hot pink sheets. Kathy was just sitting there in her grey Huskie sweats with a towel wrapped around her neck and a toothbrush in her mouth, reading the nearest thing, which happened to be last year's yearbook, but now she's gone to bed.
I'm sitting at my desk, in the Ikea desk chair my parents gave me for my birthday a few years ago, wearing jeans and my high school sweatshirt, with my work uniform shirt still on underneath. There's a stuffed cow sitting on top of my monitor; a gift from Leana when I was in grade seven. Taped to the side of the monitor is a small stuffed Grinch, a toy from a Wendy's kids meal that's also one of my souvenirs of the show. On the shelf above my desk is my jewelry box, with "Whisper" the beanie baby--the one whose birthday is four days before mine--sitting on top, and beside that is a stuffed Winnie the Pooh, a card from Lynsae, and framed pictures of Laura, Meghan and Katelyn, Jen and I, and the SEMPers this summer.
The room is incredibly peaceful, and I feel right now like all the problems are miles away. I'm all by myself, and the music is soothing; the pictures and familiarity are reassuring. I feel an incredible sense of peace, mixed with sweet memories of all kinds of things, mixed with sadness and a touch of melancholy, yet all of that tinged with hope and expectation.
I almost don't want to go to bed, because I don't want to ruin this perfect, peaceful mood. I don't want to wake up again in the real world, where everything has lost the magic that brings it alive tonight, and life seems all too real and all too looming. I don't know what it is about tonight; there's nothing special about it. There's been nothing particularly special or horrible about today; it's been an incredibly average day, moreso than most. But tonight is a night that's magical. Special. A gift.
infinite || abyss
posted at 1:32 a.m.
