And Now It’s Still Six O’Clock But I Feel Like Writing These Things Down, Letting Them Go.

I woke up to the humid breathing of my little brother, darkness discoloring the hard wood floors. I fished my watch from under my pillow, sleepily cupped my hands around it, seeking numbers.

Five. Five? Well, that was a first.

My father was gone, like aways. He is the quintessential early riser, leaving his side of the bed neatly made hours before my mother will stir. His bare feet, calloused by dry Indian air, are soft as bird wings, never making a sound. The only sign of his ever having been there is the empty mug in the sink, a pale tea bag wrapped around its string, tossed into the trash. Somehow, when I wake, these little things comfort me. I find peace, knowing he’s left these remnants, evidence of his existence.

On a whim I turned on the stereo while brushing my teeth, switching stations until I happened upon the smooth voice of Jason Mraz.

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it

Without even planning it, I was smiling, turning up the volume, my mother’s snore increasing my sense of safety.

And nothing’s going to stop me but divine intervention

I was dressing, clumsily moving along to the rhythm in a way that seemed dictated by something other than me, pulling on articles of clothing, mumbling the words to a song I didn’t know.

I won’t hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I’m yours

I have a childhood fear of the dark, accustomed to seeing shadowy shapes on the walls. Today however, I felt emboldened. I opened up the window, stared out. Street lights illuminated the silhouette of a man walking a basset hound, the neon of a nearby burger joint, the brick facades of other apartment buildings.

I guess what I’m be saying is there ain’t no better reason
To rid yourself of vanity and just go with the seasons
It’s what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

There were still remnants of the wind that was Klaus, shaking tree tops (empty hat stands), making oranges tumble to the asphalt. I closed the window. I thought about you. I thought about how what I’d loved about you was the fact that it always seemed like you were listening to me. I thought about how now, whenever I talked to you, you’d turn away, and so you must have found someone else to listen to.

I won’t hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I’m yours

I let myself lie down on the bed, limbs curling around the piles of still-wet, sun-dried laundry.

Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you’re free
Look into your heart and you’ll find that the sky is yours
Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t

Everything seemed impossibly lucid. My skin crawled. The song finished.

Cause our time is short
This oh this this is out fate, I’m yours…

Silence. I shut off the stereo, left my room. Took a deep breath, for some reason. Closed the door, a little too loudly. My mother started. She shrieked my father’s name.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

I grinned.

“It’s alright, Mom. Dad left hours ago.”

I opened the door to her room, saw her bright eyes peeking out from under the covers. She stared at me, grumbled.

“It’s just me.”