Sometimes I see the world
Sometimes I see the world.
In places I didn’t expect.
A full weekend of work with much lifting .
Customers not understanding the pandemic, coupled with a clash of personalities.
Sunday night I was happy to get home.
So I began to write, like I always do.
A sweet friends offer to see how I was doing was a pleasant surprise,though it kept me up late.Barely closed my eyes and ready or not the world showed up.
The angry unsheltered person. Just outside my window began his tirade.From that moment until way after 2am the angry shouts went on. Much under my window the rest on the street. Thinking to call the police and understanding if I did there would be retaliation.
Morning began at 530as usual. Messages, emails, and client calls. Thought I would get ahead of the game and. Do laundry sleep or not.
Three homeless. Men camped around. The laundromat and stores. I went to get coffee after putting my wash in. On my return, one of my machines had not started.Upset more about my lack of time not as much the fact that this was the third time I did my laundry and I lost 3.25. The attendant was there and. Gave me the quarters. Desperate people doing their laundry, living in cars, bags of garbage all around. It was 730 am and I felt such despair.
One block away. I live working three jobs 7 days a week to have a space to call home. I felt claustrophobic from people. It mirrors itself at work. A new group of employees brings non stop chatter. Owners too busy to turn on music. This only strengthens my need for quiet in the storm. I put the laundry in the dryer and went home.
Sipping coffee and a few customer calls, now it’s time for a shower. Three hours of sleep it took extra energy to go to work for 930.
I went to my car. My car neighbors parked way too close too. I had to crawl In from the passenger side. Now to work.
First customers were special needs with a crying baby. Maneuvering a wheelchair, large planks of flooring, one hearing impaired with a challenging design.
Nerves frazzled, I made it through resulting in an idea they loved. I felt. Gratitude for my mobility and ability to create.
Then I thought to myself, it’s just a mirror of what I see in the world.
Ukrainians scared and fleeing their homes. Unending noise all around. All worrying about their future and the fate of the world.
Sometimes I see the world, grateful I can write and hopeful and worried at the same time for the future.