breakfast

There are people giggling in the backyard and I want to have a look. Let them have their moment, Morales. Such joy.

Sometimes I have a thought and my immediate urge is to grab a keyboard and type it out. Whoa, Morales. Like when you feel a sneeze coming on and your instinct is to grab a tissue. Maybe see if the sneeze materializes first. Sometimes it’s better if I grab a pen and paper and work out the thought. The act of holding the pen and moving my hand across the paper is necessary to even complete it.

When I’m home I stand to eat. And I couldn’t figure it out at first. Why?

And then I realized that I’m always semi uncomfortable sitting at a table to eat or sitting at a desk during the day. And then I realized why.

Why I hate sitting so much in general. Most table and chair combos were not made to suit me. They were not made for my height or my proportions. The length of my torso or arms.

When I stand to eat–the angle of my head seems much more natural to the plate. The distance from plate to mouth is much more do-able.

How many things do we adapt to that were never intended for us at all? That weren’t made with us in mind? That despite our best efforts will always make feel a little bit uncomfortable? I think of all the things that weren’t made with me in mind.

And how do we explain this to people who fit just fine at the table? Who have never considered that the way they feel at the table isn’t universal? That someone else doesn’t feel as comfortable just sitting there? It took me 28 years and 10 months to uncover my discomfort, and it has been happening to me.

“The time is just the time it takes for you to talk.”

It’s not that I’ve lost my voice. It’s not that I don’t have the words. I have all the words. The problem is I worry you won’t understand them or that you won’t get it. And that stifles me. But well, why is that my problem. The words don’t have meaning. We create the meaning.

 

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