The Good Old Days

Today I was thinking of Room 19 in Petersburg, IN. The alarm would go off at 5:30 am and I'd get up, walk two feet to a tiny fridge and fill my arms with corn tortillas, queso fresca, a container of pork carnitas,  half of an avocado from the day before and a lime.  Then I would step to the side two feet and assemble Jacob's lunch for the day, using the microwave, not forgetting to include tomatillo salsa and spiced plantain chips that were stored in the desk drawers with our sweet and salty snacks.

Once that was done I would wake him up and while he dressed for work,  I visited our overstuffed, little fridge again and this time filled my arms with bags of carrots, celery, a cucumber, a beet and a red bell pepper. It was time to make our morning juice. Everything had been washed in the bathroom sink ahead of time so all I did was slice. The sound of the juicer switch was always something I loved. It made a real "click" sound.  The roaring of the juicer's motor would shake the desk and bottles of chartreuse, bitters, vermouth and whiskey would rattle, it was our morning noise. One by one the sliced veggies would become both a frothy juice in a large measuring cup and dried pulp in a bowl. By the time Jacob was ready to exit, his juice was neatly poured into a long paper cup that he drank quickly.  Kiss-kiss, big hug, his rough hands putting lovely snags in my robe, and goodbye.

Once he left I would pour mine into a glass and watch I Love Lucy episodes in the dark.  It was summertime but the morning air had a slight chill to it and it's own scent that entered and filled the room when Jacob opened the door to leave. Truck engines could be heard running and starting, like birds, they each had their own call. One by one they drove off and by the time the second I Love Lucy episode began,  there was silence, the motor lodge was asleep again.  If I cared to stay up till sunrise, sunlight would cut like a knife, only on the right side of the window. The drapes were not wide enough to cover the last quarter inch of the opening. I would lay down, shut my eyes and wonder what I'd do for the day.  This happened every morning while there. But I remember specific mornings by the text messages I'd receive when I'd lay down after watching television. The morning I am thinking of today was, "I love you, you are my miracle." 

3 Comments:

Blogger ♥ w o o l f ♥ said...

you are good at describing circumstances, early morning musings even. i remember you car ride near a railway station, was it?
you make the uneventful eventful. that is power, you know?

you have become stronger, and don't you forget it.
n♥

Wednesday, March 06, 2013  
Blogger moonshinejunkyard said...

you should write a book. a little memoir, poems inspired by life, something...it's true. your circumstances come to life and live inside the reader. i feel like this is my own memory. crazy and wondrous.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013  
Blogger Tera said...

Thank you, Nadine and Heather!

Friday, March 15, 2013  

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