Thirty-One, A Novel
This is part of a continuing story, a short chapter each day for the month of October.
DAY TWO, TUESDAY
Morgan awoke as the light glimmered through the sheer curtains, reflected off the mirror on her dresser. She should cover that at night if she wanted to sleep in. It woke her up each morning like some magic mirror speaking to her, calling out her name.
Why did it matter if she got up? No one would notice if she slept in all day. No one would notice at all. She began her usual round of glum thoughts, discouragement, self-abasement. Regrets, her days were full of them. Not like any of it was her fault. Enough already. Get up, get to work. What was today’s work? It didn’t matter. Just something to keep busy. Keep moving. Eat something.
She looked in the mirror, the sun reflected on her face. It wasn’t a bad face. Her hair was a mess, but a comb would fix that. Why did she feel so heavy? Like weighted down with an elephant. Like she was a baby bird in the nest of a diligent mother elephant, sitting on the nest. An elephant on a nest? Where did she get that idea? She thought of an old Dr. Seuss book, about Mayzie the lazy bird sitting on her nest. What was the name of that book – who was the elephant who took over the egg sitting for her? Horton, that was it. Morgan smiled at the happy memory, sitting on the couch, curled with four short legs entwined in her own, reading together. She caught the expression, her smile in the mirror. It was the first time she had seen or felt hope. In a long time. Perhaps there was a way out of this emotional hole. Perhaps.
But for now, get dressed, turn on the coffee pot, pour the cereal into the bowl, cut up the banana. Water the plant next to the sink. Maybe that’s what she needed. Life. To tend for, care for something. That’s what she did all those years. Tend to those little lives that grew into big lives, that walked away…and the thoughts deteriorated again. Why was this hurdle so hard to jump? Why was she so stuck? There had to be a way, she just had to figure it out. “I will figure this out,” she spoke aloud, then laughed at herself. Who am I talking to? Crazy people talk to themselves. Am I crazy or am I just confused? I wonder.
Click here for the link to Day One