Smells and Stirs

I'm up.  I've been since not quite seven on this Sunday morn.  My earplugs give the calming impression that the world is quiet today.

The window behind me is opened as wide as it will go.  I say wide because our windows slide to the right and left, not up and down; no matter how you cut it, traditional apparently isn't meant to be my thing.  You might not believe me if you're still in bed as it'll probably warm up considerably by the time you awake, but the breeze carrying the quiet through the living room right now is cool, almost chilly, even, with the humidity of the past few days gone elsewhere.  Relief.

The apartment is stuffier than I'd like.  It smells stinky of yesterday's cooking spree (in none of which I partook).  I woke up twice in the middle of the night interrupted by airs of sticky garlic and deep cumin.  Every nook and cranny of this place absorbs that day's feasts.  Such is the thing about living in small spaces.  [Sigh.]  Soeur and her boy seem to enjoy squeezing into our humble kitchen.  Somewhere, an iPad sits glowing bright with a recipe as they mince and shimmy around bantering only by way of questions.  Babe, should we add more garlic?  Do we need chicken broth?  When should we add the cilantro?  Babe, should we do this?  Babe, should we do that?  That is how they communicate.  Never telling, only asking.  To an outside observer, it's endearing.  For the first ten minutes, that is.  By minute eleven, my attention is elsewhere, tired by the indirectness of it all.  It's just a thing they do and it seems to work for them.

Look how I've moved my plate of toast to cover the front page of the paper.  That waving arm belongs to one Mr. Paul Ryan.  I'm scared that Mitt might win.  The big day's just around the corner and not one single other American with whom I've shared this sentiment shares this insecurity.  I don't have much to say about politics, but I know enough about myself and how I'd like my voice to be reflected by the actions of my country's government.  I know what I think about basic needs being met; that as part of an enlightened society, we are neither 100% the individual nor 100% the people.  We are more like 200% America.  That might not make sense to some, but it does to me because if there's one thing that I know for sure, it is that we have an obligation and right to take care of ourselves, our neighbors, and the communities that we form.  Because we're human and that's what we do.

Chunky peanut butter.  Ew.  Because that's all we have.
At home.  Breakfast.
9:15 am.  Today.