The Journey

     It's hard to wake up, especially on a Saturday. The Friday beforehand was long and numbing near its end. Nevertheless, it was enjoyable-- even though I felt wiped out by the next day. Saturdays aren't bad, however, since I get to sleep in until nine or eleven A.M. This Saturday, I woke up at 9 A.M. feeling groggy and well-rested. As always, I decided not to disturb my tired parents by showering first. I didn't want to wake them up with a racket in the kitchen after all.

Once I entered the bathroom, I lazily headed into the shower and turned the faucet to the right. The water felt cold as I checked its temperature with my fingers, but the longer I waited, the warmer it got. Soon, I let the lukewarm drops silence my existence. It came naturally to scrub myself clean and to rinse it off, yet the feeling of being clean was always refreshing. It came so naturally to me that I felt like a husk each time I showered-- like a robot. Sometimes, I can't help but ask myself if that was a good or bad thing.

After showering, I cloaked myself with my towel and strode to my room to change. It felt nice once my clothes draped my figure, and it felt even better to be under my sheets. I wanted to feel my bed sheet's warmth again before doing anything productive, like making breakfast, but that didn't happen. My sheets didn't shelter my body from my home's cold stillness-- instead, they joined the cold environment and gave up on my needs. I sighed at this revelation and got up again to continue my day.

As usual, I found my little brother in the dining room eating before anyone else. I greeted him while I searched the cabinets to eat from the Kellogg's cereal box we shared. It wasn't all bad sharing food with my brother-- as long as we both got our fair amount of food and didn't fight over it, we were cool. After my outstretched hand found our shared cereal, my body turned to the refrigerator and opened it to look for the milk. Just then, I heard my brother's chair rattle lightly behind me, and when I looked back, I saw him picking up his empty bowl. I immediately felt dejected once my brother continued with his life by putting his bowl in the kitchen sink. A small part of me wanted to eat with him today.

It seems normal by now to eat by myself on weekends, yet I can't help but feel tired of that being the case. Each Saturday is a repeat of the past Saturday. It didn't matter if I made plans beforehand: I still felt numb each day. There are small instances of feeling happy each day, but they are hardly caused by me when I feel like dirt. These external forces, like my friends and family, keep me from feeling so hollow all the time. It feels nice no matter what to be beside them, but I know I shouldn't depend on them all the time to make me feel better.

I didn't have to wait long for something good to happen this Saturday. It's strange how much better I feel when my dad and mom finally wake up. It felt nice to be greeted by them as they prepared their breakfast. I felt content beside them as I continued hearing their ratchet in the kitchen. Seeing my parents persevere through the day despite being half asleep-- motivated me to be more active today.

Just as my parents finished making their breakfast, I finished eating mine. I placed my bowl in our kitchen sink before going to our laundry room to grab my mom's vacuum. I then walked to my room, vacuum in hand. The vacuum buzzing sound filled my head space once I turned it on. It felt nice not listening to anything but the frantic buzzing sound the vacuum made while eating the dust and dirt on the floor. My moves didn't feel so mindless this time but intentional as I vacuumed every crevice in my room.

As I finished cleaning my room, I heard my bedroom doorknob click behind me. Turning around, I saw my mom standing in the doorway. My mom asked me if I wanted to go with her to the supermarket. I hummed in thought, unsure at first if I should go. My mom never made me go anywhere I didn't want to go. As I stared at her in contemplation, I couldn't help but notice her mood. My mom seemed hopeful, and despite the sunlight not filtering through my blinds, she reflected a bright aura. As I glanced at her crinkled eyes, I finally agreed to join her escapade.

I quickly put on black sweats, a white shirt, and my dirtied white shoes once my mom left my room. I tied my shoelaces in a rushed manner before scurrying towards the front door of our home. Once I arrived and started putting on a black jacket I took from the clothing rack, I noticed the shoelaces on my right shoe were already untied. I sighed in annoyance but didn't do anything about it. Just then, my mom appeared from the hallway with her purse and keys. My mom asked if I was ready to leave, but before I gave her an answer, she pointed out my shoelaces. I blanked when my mom told me to tie them and said I would do it in the car. Not liking my feelings of indifference, she kneeled and tied my shoes for me. My mom's actions felt nostalgic to me. Sometimes I feel like she's there, but sometimes not. I didn't mind her tying my shoe-- it reminded me of when I was younger.

After my mom finished, she grabbed her coat from the coat hanger and opened the door for me. As I stepped out, I noticed it was raining as I trudged towards my mom's car. Standing before it, I decided to sit in the passenger's seat beside my mom. I looked down at my shoes as my mom started the car-- the shoelaces on my left shoe were now untied. My hands stretched to get a hold of my untied shoe and rested it on my right knee. I tied my shoes once, then double-knotted them so they wouldn't get untied again. Looking over my work, I felt satisfied, and for today, that was enough.