“Et cetera”

by AIDY

Well it is another day and another forgotten memory, the same thoughts I have every morning for as long as I can remember. I realized after the many years I spent trying to fit in, trying to be everything to everyone; I can never remember the fine details. Only remembering that things never turn out quite the way I thought they should. I get frustrated when I attempt to conjure these lost memories as I look at the crinkles on my forehead making me look old. My trial and error moments equal forgotten memories.

But not today. Today is a new day.

I brush my teeth thinking of how unsettling it is for me to think of today being any different or any more special from any other day. I will try this time to start saying good morning to everyone—-in fact; I will start with the security guard downstairs. And I will not spend my 30-minute bus ride stressing or debating whether I sounded too eager or hopeful. Nah sir, not today.

Today is a new day.

I can manage a smile…I hear smiling never hurt anyone…see there, I managed a foaming ‘Judge Judy’esq smile only the corners of my mouth only trembled a little bit but that’s ok. Now, I have to see if I can say a ‘good morning’ with that smile…

“Good morning.”

That didn’t seem too hard. I hum while I finish brushing my teeth…up like a plane, down like rain, back and forth like a choo-choo train. Spit. Slurp. Swish. Spit.

Today is a new day.

“Good morning” as I pour coffee into my thermos from my chipped Black and Decker coffee pot. I don’t want to throw it away, my first coffee pot. It was the first appliance I ever bought—checking to see if I remembered to put a little creamer in the bottom while repeating, “good morning” “g’morning” “morning” just to be sure my lips and tongue are in cadence…the worse thing would be for me to sound like a stutterer…

“g-g-g-g- morning”

Then I would stress all day about sounding like a complete idiot…God, I hope the bus is not crowded—I really would hate to have to sit or stand next to someone. I would really hate it if the front seat of the bus were taken. What time is it now?

Relax…today is a new day.

I make my lunch. Like I do everyday, even if I don’t get the chance to eat it. The lunchroom is always crowded anyway, all those people herd in there like a flock of sheep and the microwave has this yellow-orangey film on the inside, and all those people crammed in such a tiny space. I hate to eat in front of people anyway. That is why I only bring a cheese sandwich, tightly wrapped in Saran Wrap because it can tuck nicely in the inside of my coat pocket for me to eat later. No one needs to see me eat a cheese sandwich. When I get a chance today, I will eat it while running errands for the office. It’s easy to fold the sandwich in half, and take two bites to stuff it in my mouth on the elevator between the first and sixteenth floors.

The elevator isn’t too small either. Just enough space to breathe. I feel as though I would smother otherwise. If someone asks me about lunch, I can honestly say that I had already eaten. Problem solved. What time is it now?

I won’t look at the guard when I say good morning. That will avoid any potential for conversation. I haven’t planned for a dialogue yet…that would mean I have to get up earlier in the morning to prepare for something like that.

As I lace my shoes, being sure that each lace lies flat across the top of my shoes and black shoelaces are better because the white laces get dirty too fast and I would spend all day looking down at them to see if there was a spot.

“Good morning”

As I carefully tie each shoelace, remembering to practice my hollow greeting. Finished. I pace from my chair to grab my keys and messenger bag from the wall stand near the door. Checked for my cheese sandwich—pocketed—final visual once-over of the room. TV turned off. Check. Bathroom light out. Check. And for some reason, this morning I am hesitant in closing and locking the front door. I press the small button on the base of the wall sconce near my door to check to see if my exterior light still worked. Check.

I slowly descend the stairs because I enjoy the echoes of my shoes on the paved stairs in the hallway, and with each echo, repeating undertone’d

“good morning” step. Echo.
“g’morning” another step. Echo.
“g’day…morning” another step. Another echo.

I see the guard’s desk is just up ahead but something is wrong. He isn’t the same night guard. He isn’t the same person at all. Now my shoes no longer echo, I can no longer hear my voice, garbled within my throat—my good morning.

-Inaudible-

Now I am at the bus stop worrying if the bus will be too crowded, worrying if I have to stand in the rear of the bus near the exit, worrying if there will be a seat in the front of the bus and worrying if the seat had been taken and most of all, worrying about who will be guarding the front desk when I get home.