Postaday for May 10th: Journey. Tell us about a journey — whether a physical trip you took, or an emotional one.
(I had no idea what to write, so I cribbed from The Hero’s Journey to create the following. It’s entirely fictional.)
I was sitting in my home office, browsing the internet, content in a cloud of my own inertia, fused almost as one with my big orange office chair. Outside my window, my neighbor’s dog barked, a constant litany of boredom.
My stomach started with a gurgle, and then a rumble, and then a deep pang that suggested hunger. A gnawing began to grow, in gentle tendrils that laced themselves up and down my spine.
But I knew better than to hop right up and feed. I was as like to get hungry from tedium as I was from a need for nutrition. Besides, I had a conference call coming up in a few minutes. I continued internet browsing. Oh, look, a dog chasing its own tail falls into a swimming pool. Hilarious.
A window popped up on my work PC. “Need to bump the call by half an hour.” This made me a little angry. Which conference call? I work with several teams in one day, have several calls. These guys think they’re the only game in town. Sheesh.
A tinny ding, and Outlook informs me I have a new meeting invite. I check it- the pending call is the one that is getting bumped. My stomach growls, loudly, in response. I’ve got shoes on and I’m out the door before I even realize it.
The sun is bright in my eyes, unadjusted from the comfortable darkness inside my house. My feet protests the pavement, as the lymph pooled from hours of sitting works its way out. The dog barking is louder now that I’m outside, more irritating.
My neighbor’s flower bed has gone to weeds. I used to see him out there, every sunny day, weeding, or flowering, or whatever you call it. He’d say hello. I’d ask him if he wanted anything from 7-11, and I realize now that’s where I’m headed. He’d always smile and say a diet pepsi would sort him out. I’d smile and say sure, he’d gives me a thumb’s up. He was a nice old guy.
It occurs to me that I have bread and lunch meat in my fridge. I don’t need to go to 7-11. But I’m going to anyway, get something to eat, get a diet pepsi for my neighbor, pour one out on his old flower bed. Maybe that’s silly. I’m in a silly mood.
My driveway leads to a street, of course, which has a sidewalk. The next street has no sidewalk, however. I walk against traffic, the 7-11 looming ahead in the bright sunshine.
I walk into the 7-11. The clerk knows me, smiles. My stomach growls again, fiercely. I have no idea what I want. The frozen burritos look like bricks. The bags of chips look like bags of sawdust. There’s greasy slices of pizza, oily hot dogs on rollers, a cabinet full of dried-up donuts. My head swims with hunger and indecision.
I grab a bottle of diet pepsi, walk a few more aisles. Candy bars and gum and more bags of chips. My phone in my pocket beeps—a text from a coworker. The call that was bumped has been unbumped, and starts in two minutes.
Shove my phone into my front pocket, where it pushes against my hip at an odd angle. I check my wallet. There’s only one dollar in there. I take a step away from the counter, and there’s a twinge in my hip. My phone is at an odd angle because it’s resting on some loose change. I fish the change out—that and the dollar are just enough for the diet pepsi.
I leave the 7-11 and start to run down the road. At a cut in traffic I cross the street so I can run on the left side. A car honks, but I ignore it. The barking of that damn dog is a beacon. I turn onto my street, and as I approach my driveway I realize I’ve shaken my neighbor’s diet pepsi up, but good.
I check my watch. Con call in one minute. I trot up to my neighbor’s weedy flower bed. I’m standing there, and I glance up. His old wife is peeking at me from behind the curtains. I give her a wave, and the curtains close. The dog stops barking all of a sudden. It’s an eerie quiet as I stand there for a second or two.
Then I run back to my house, into the door and up the stairs. Join the conference call. I’m a little bit sweaty from the jog back, and a little thirsty. I open the diet pepsi, and it explodes all over the place. I’m stunned. On the con call, someone is saying “Jason, what do you think? Is that a good idea? Jason? Are you there? Talking to the mute button again?”