David: An Invocation

I’m hearing crickets. Why am I hearing crickets at eight thirty in the morning? Take a deep breath, Mattie. It’s just another day in Hell’s paradise. I’ve got to stop saying these crazy things to myself. Okay. Not okay. Okay, it’s going to be the perfect day to write. I’ll write on the front porch this morning. The weather feels just right, sunny and a bit chilly. Perfect. It’s still early. I’ll set my alarm for another hour of rest then I’ll get up and write. I can call Robbie, now, and thank him for the comforter he got me for my birthday in the middle of the summer. I mean, who does that…who sends a comforter as a birthday gift when the weather is a hundred and five degrees?

It’s cold in here, but that’s my fault. It’s the night sweats and this damn body transition that keeps me turning in bed. I had to open the window at two o’clock in the morning. Stop thinking, Mattie! Now you’ve only got fifty minutes to take a quick nap before getting up and gathering your day. I’ll meditate. I’ll do the Milk Meditation I learned at the Conservatory. I’ll start with the milk pouring into my big toe, moving throughout my body until it reaches the tip of my head. I should be sleep in less than ten. This one always puts me to sleep.

Damn the crickets! What the hell. I should get up and close the window. No, it’s going to break my meditation time, but that damn chippety, chirp is annoying. Where are the birds? Let me think, oh yeah, they’re probably at McDonald’s circling the parking lot waiting on a french fry to drop. Who wants crickets when you can have a hot fry or two.

I should really close the window and thank David for his watchful eye. He was the best investment I ever made a year ago. I needed a muse and a protector and you can be overly dramatic, Mattie, but hell, living on the first floor and my bedroom window of all things facing the parking lot… not a safe bet to leave the window open all night.

“Thank you, David for standing guard!” He’s so stoic and truly handsome for a half body super white mannequin. My Minute Man. My sentinel. I wonder what would have happened if I really did spray paint his whole body brown last year. Yep, that was the plan, but “you spoke to me, didn’t ja, David? You screamed and said, ‘Nooo, stop, please don’t paint me brown!’”

Twenty minutes left to get in a quick nap in before I get up and write. Okay, so meditating is out. Stop thinking, Mattie! Empty your mind. Count backwards from a hundred or just forget it and get up, start your day. It is super cold out there. Summer just ended, fall just began, but it feels like November. I need to call the pool company today and schedule a closing. I seriously think it is going to be a brutal winter. I’m going to be prepared this winter. Ah, yes, winter is for writer’s. It’s the best time of the year. Winter is festive, plus, I get to put on as many clothes as needed. In the summer, I can only get butt naked and still sweat. Who the heck walks around naked outside in 105 degrees? Adam and Eve, of course. Oh my god, I just crack myself up. Sticking my head in the freezer with the A/C running consistently, I turn into a freaking hermit in the summer.

Oh, well, battle lost. Time’s up. I would throw my alarm across the room, but it just so happens to be my cellphone. Upsy daisy, Mattie. Ouchie! Every morning there is a different pain in a different part of my body. Let me stretch it out before I leave this warm comforter. I should start with exercising this morning, or maybe just stick to my routine and do all my journals first like always, oh, but wait, Mattie, you just journaled in your head that whole hour you should have been taking that last little nap before getting up. Stretch it out, girl. Get up and make your bed, brush your teeth, take a shower, dress, light a candle, light an incense.

Where did I put those cozy boot slippers. My feet are freezing. I’ve got to get up and close that window. Ah, yes. It smells fresh out there, even with that stupid neighbor sitting in his car every morning, running his exhaust, eating his junky breakfast. The crickets have stopped chirping.

“Good Morning, David. Thank you for standing by through the dark and weary night.” I should get the space smelling just right before I begin. Which one, Frankincense and Myrrh or Sandalwood? Frankincense and Myrrh it is. One. Two. Three. Four. Which candle should I burn first? I think I’ll start with plain, since I have the incense burning, then I’ll do the Apple cinnamon, since I’m at that part of the story where Christmas happens. Perfect. This should give me enough time to brush my teeth, shower, dress and get a cup of coffee, and then I’ll light my Apple cinnamon candle. I should still journal my gratitude, or why not just get through them all and begin the today’s writing sprint.

Make your bed, Mattie! I am in need of caffeine. That’ll get my day going, coffee and a couple of puffs of a cigarette on the patio. The only plus about this apartment is the patio off my living room, but how unsafe I feel at night. First, I’ll place David in the living room window. I’ll have to find that old newspaper and prop him up, then I’ll get my coffee, find my comfy boot slippers and sit outside to meditate with a puff or two.

Incense smells great. Coffee is perfect. What time is it? What? You’ve got to be kidding me. Where did the time go. It’s almost eleven thirty. I’ll shower and dress later.

It’s time to draw the curtains and write.