Where's the Restart Button?
The alarm goes off - interrupting my dreamless slumber. Another night of tossing, turning, restless thoughts, and too hot sheets. It’s the weird transition from Summer to Fall when the weather can’t make up its mind between soaring heat or somewhat cold. Summer refuses to leave without a fight, wringing every last drop of sweat from my body.
A kiss of death before its time is up.
I groan and roll over to stare at the dark outline of the ceiling fan above me. A small whisper of gratitude for a new day leaves my lips and is sent into the ether. I’m not sure if it is heard by anyone, but I’ve gotten into the habit of being thankful to the Universe before my day begins. Call it a newly-found quarantine habit, but after what we all went through last year, I thank my lucky stars I have a chance to start again. Slowly, I make my bed in the darkness and throw on my purple long-sleeve and a pair of shorts to go for my run. It’s 6AM. The asphalt is wet and the air still warm from the thunderstorms last night. Change is imminent.
I love running at this hour. It feels like I have the whole world to myself- quiet and slow. A few houses have a light on, leaves rustle, a car engine starts. A fellow early riser nods in solidarity as we pass one another. As I make my way over the hill, past the park, the sun is peaking through the tops of the apartment buildings. A beacon of hope at the start of a new day. A stark contrast to the apocalyptic overnight conditions. I run the rest of my 3-mile trek home. Every pound against the pavement matching the beat to my Billy Idol song. I see my house coming closer into view and before I know it, I’ve reached the top of my steps to my door. My heart pounds. Sweat drips off my legs as I untie my shoes. I’m tired but feel a sense of lightness as I make my way to the shower. The feeling of warm water against my skin is a refreshing relief to my body and sore muscles. I throw on some sweats and make my way to the kitchen.
I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour myself black coffee from the carafe. No cream. No sugar. Just black. The aroma of roasted beans fills my nostrils, the outer corners of my lips curl into a smile. I plop onto my living room chair just before taking the first sip. A slow, lingering taste. The hot liquid hits my tongue and I swear I can feel my blood awakening. An IV of caffeine hitting my nervous system and jolting every cell in my body awake. The best start to my day. A chance to start again.
I think we all need a restart button. A chance to unplug the metaphorical Nintendo 64 console, wait 5 seconds, and reboot. The pandemic has shed a light on the archaic ways of our past and has led to everyone re-evaluating what life truly means for them. For me, it’s to appreciate the small moments that often get overlooked or are forgotten. Gone are the days of two-hour commutes wasting half my life only to reach my destination and be completely miserable at my dead-end job. For you, it may be something entirely different. Whatever it is, I hope you find the power to start again.
