Singing in the Shower
I twisted the lever for the tap, moving it gently from low to high pressure. The initial trickle of icy water a shock to my outstretched hand. Slowly the flow became warm, warmer, hot, hotter… “Ouch! Too hot! Too hot!” my inner voice shrieked as I quickly fiddled with the nob to bring it back to a tolerable climate.
I stepped into the heated stream, letting the hot deluge wash away the tension. The chaos of the morning left me feeling as if I had been covered in sticky glue. If not removed fully, the madness from the rest of the day would adhere and weigh me down.
“Dah, dah, dee, dee. Dum, dum, dah, dah, dee, dee.” I heard Puya’s voice in my head. Music I’d played for my violin instructor the day before, stuck on endless replay in my brain. I had practiced the Etude so many times I could now play it from memory. The melody ingrained in my brain, I could hear it playing repeatedly while I attended my martial arts class the evening before. The juxtaposition of kickboxing to an internal rendition of Bach not being lost on my humor.
As I moved the soft music to the back of my mind, I anticipated how the day would hopefully play out. A writing deadline loomed dangerously over my head. I needed intense focus and I wasn’t sure I would find it amongst the long list of daily tasks awaiting me outside of the safety of the shower.
I grabbed my toothbrush and closed my eyes as I began the pattern of small circles the dentist ensured would keep my pearly whites… well, pearly white!
An image flashed behind my eyelids. Fingers typed incessantly on a laptop keyboard, the body too near to be seen, seated at a small brown kitchen table. A hot cup of coffee set to the right, no doubt the second cup of the day.
Words flew across the monitor. The hands desperately trying to keep up with the flow of prose that sped along the neural pathway from the brain. A pause in the cacophony as the author finds the right composition of a sentence. Again, the fingers picked up speed, the pace a feverish clip.
I reopened my eyes as I finished my diligent scrub of my teeth. The vision restored my faith that I would find the strength, settle down, get the work done. Feel it, live it, breath it.
The temperature began to cool once more as the small water tank emptied. My husband’s morning shower clearly longer than necessary. It was time to get down to business and make the vision a reality, or freeze in the frigid water.
I stepped from the shower onto the cold floor, desperate to dry off quickly. The chill of the bathroom floor draining the warmth out of the souls of my feet quicker than the shower had warmed them.
I walked into my kitchen to where my work space had confiscated every surface of the table. I sat down, the vision flashed in my mind again. I opened the half-completed Word file, took a deep breath and let my fingers fly.