Every night, I hear a rapping on my window. The sound creeps up into the walls and bears the sound of breaking glass. Each night I turn back over and drift off to sleep to the tap-tap-tap behind my blinds and I think of how adorable cats are when they aren’t trying to be.
In the mornings, the sun light peeks through the cracks and I pull the blinds revealing a bright morning. A bright happy morning as I stretch my arms out into the air. I wonder about the flowers outside nestled below my window. I strain my neck against the glass to see it but sure enough there are bees burying themselves into each rose. I wonder if the buzz-buzz-buzz is its own way of singing to the rose as it takes its pollen. Coaxing the roses into peace using a set of sounds that is nothing but noise to my ears. When the bee drifts off back into nature, I wonder if in that moment, the bee says goodbye. Then again, that rose must be awfully stupid for trusting an insect to gather its pollen. Its seed, its source of new life. I find a sort of rage building within me at the thought of these deceitful bees and ignorant flowers.
Suddenly I find myself in my kitchen. Still in my underwear, I pull back the curtains by the oak dining table and find a man out on the sidewalk. I gawk at his white robes and slowly walk over to press my face to the window looking left and right and wondering if he was a neighbor that went out to fetch the paper. He looks sad. I feel a flicker of remorse and wonder if the sun is just as beautiful from where he stands and I get this burning desire to walk outside but instead, he looks at me and his crooked smile beams across face as he waves only to look as if he’s lost his train of thought and wanders down along the sidewalk.
I think I like this house. I moved in quite a bit ago and I love how simple it all is. The kitchen is so close to my bedroom so close to the dining room and so close to the bathroom. I wonder if anyone else has that luxury.
Then there it is again. I get these awful thoughts most days and my brain can’t seem to register something. Something. I desperately wish to know this wracking of my brain. Who is it? Like a therapist probing your mind with words, is your mind the same as mine? Maybe we do not exist. Do not matter. This burning. Thoughts break up my thoughts break up my thoughts break up. The tears. My eyes. I catch my robe in my hands and untie it letting it fall to the floor. My tiled floor is white and I feel the chill reach up through my toes while all around me is white with four corners on the ceiling and a white door with a tiny pane of glass towards the top. It’s too cold in this room and I suddenly miss my house. My house, but at least the sun shines through the blinds on this high window. I strain my neck trying to reach it, to pull the curtains back but I can’t, it’s too high.
I wonder if the flowers miss the bees. I stare back up at the window and to what purpose it was built so high up. Where did the sun go? It’s night again. I crawl into my bed and think but not think of all the ways cats can look cute and all the ways they would look if the bees chose to say hello to the kittens and burrow deep inside them – Tap – tap –tap. I look up and see a crooked grin through my door and I rise out of bed pressing my face to the glass where even the noise outside is muffled. I wonder where the flowers went. I wonder if the bees are gone.
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I felt quite whimsical tonight and wrote this after eating a burger and looking at cat pictures. Yum.
