Grainy

Feeling a little grainy lately, unsure of what the future holds, doing my best to stay optimistic. Nervous, not for my new job (Yes! I have a new job!), but for everything that it encompasses. I’m not sure if it’s the bigger picture, or just the details that have me unsettled. In just fifteen days, a completely different routine, new people, new environments, and no longer having a customer service job for the first time in nearly 20 years is making my immediate view a little fuzzy around the edges.

I’m trying to gather and wrap my comforts around me, but I’m coming up short, like being left on read. If I ever had the confidence to learn how to play an instrument, I would do that right now.

Unsettled, I reach for my camera. I want to use the presets that I’ve never used. I need to do something different, can’t keep regurgitating the same. There is no button that says “kodak gold 800 speed circa 1999-2003” so I opt for another. “Film grain” seems to match my mood. Straight out of the camera. Here goes nothing.

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The kitchen floor I just cleaned.

The window above my sink (where I recently watched a woodpecker for 30 minutes straight) reflected from a framed photo.

Sunshine filters into the dark hallway. The house is so quiet, I can hear the low coo of a distant dove under the loud chirps from the Carolina Wrens talking at my window.

Messy stacks of CDs, as my camera decides to focus on the frame behind. Always focused on the wrong thing these days, can’t blame the camera on that.

Sleep never comes for me, so I’m glad one of us is well-rested.

Makeshift tie, holding back the darkness.

The darkness swallows so much, and I’m constantly drawing back curtains to let the sunshine in.

Shapes slowly reveal themselves on the floor, like hesitant long-distance lovers after too much time apart.

Covers from my unmade bed, invite more than dreams.

Staring at the ceiling at noon on a Monday.

I see you, seeing right through me, through shielded eyes.

The afternoon sun fills the front room, but I still manage to find the darkest corner.

Reflections from the tv I never turn on.

My messy unwashed curls and I say, Hi.