Walk to Sleep | Teen Ink

Walk to Sleep

November 27, 2016
By BebedorDeCafe BRONZE, Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania
BebedorDeCafe BRONZE, Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“You are enough. You are so enough. It is unbelievable how enough you are.” (Sierra Boggess)


Smooth, smooth, dip. Smooth, smooth, crack. Smooth, smooth, drop.

Stop.

Wait.

Listen.

Car, car—ding of the crosswalk signal.

Is that it? The sign? Can't be sure. Too many cellphones. Too many beepers.

People surge forward. Follow, follow.

Crosswalk. Touch of smooth pavement, crackle on the asphalt. Have the cars truly stopped? Trust is so dangerous these days.

Engines grumble and whine, lament being forced to pause their race to nowhere.

Slope up, crack, smooth, smooth, crack. Sidewalk.

Is this the awning street? Snap to make sure. Strong fingers making a loud noise. Crisp, sharp. Can't hear the sound come back.

Must be the awning street.

Fourteen cracks. One, two, three, four, discarded wrapper, five—or was that six? Lost count. Not again.

Larger sweep to the side. Shade tree encountered. Six, then.

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven—foot.

"Sorry."

"Hey! Watch where you're—I didn't mean—oh gosh—"

"It's fine."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

Right. Around the corner—watch out for that dumb bench with all the dumb pigeons.

Sixteen cracks this time. Ready, set, go.

Cars on the left, buildings on the right. Sweep to the right, make sure. They're there. Too close though. Sweep to the left. No one there. Merge left, into oncoming traffic. Accelerate to the flow of pedestrian traffic. The only driving these feet will ever do. Keep walking.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Stop.

Listen. Crosswalk.

Ding.

Cars smelling like death covered in mold.

Smooth, crackle, smooth, crackle, smooth, crackle—up, crack, smooth.

Taco vendor, hot dog vendor, ice cream truck.

Dead meat, fake meat, flavored milk.

Smile to the left—at the man always sitting there. Watch his feet.

He never moves.

Keep walking.

Four cracks past the man.

One, two, three, four.

Left this time. Careful. Listen, listen, listen.

Ding.

Forward with the wave.

Smooth, crackle, smooth, crackle—up, crack, smooth.

Ten cracks even. Count carefully now. Don't get confused by the grates.

One, two.

"Hello!"

"Hi!"

Someone speaking. Too many sounds, too many voices. Nothing individual.

Don't listen, don't listen. Focus, focus, focus.

 

Three.

"How are you?"

Four, five.

"Fine, and yourself?"

Six, seven. Almost there.

"Just fine!"

"That's good."

Eight.

"Well, it was good seeing you!"

Nine.

"You too!"

The irony.

Ten. Turn.

Door—don't walk into the door though.

Bump. Heavy wood, almost metallic. Echo.

 

Reach, keys in, turn, push.

Smell of scented candles. He never listens.

Scents make it hard, so hard. So confusing.

Something burning? Kitchen fire? No, just fresh linen. Damn brother.

"You home?"

No, at a friend's. Damn brother.

"You want dinner?"

Went out with friends for dinner. What do you think?

 

"I'll take that as a yes."

Take it however you want to. Too tired to clarify. Too angry at you, too.

Scrape, scrape, scrape. Wood floors.

"Don't know why you use that thing in the house. You don't need it here."

It's for unfamiliar places. Is the door open this time? Closed?

Halfway between? Is the chair at the table or halfway across the room?

Damn brother never leaves the floors clean. Can't stop rearranging the furniture. Has to get it just right. Just so. Hates the cane. Too many marks on the floor. Your fault, not mine. Damn brother.

Stairs. Careful on the stairs.

Up, up, up, up—one, two, three, four. Turn. Three forward. Up, up, up, up, up—one, two, three, four, five.

Use caution while exiting the stairwell; carpet may be slippery when wet. Slippery in general.

Carpet missing.

Damn brother.

Eight steps forward, bear left—avoid the table with the vase.

Clack.

Door closed this time.

Left hand out, door knob, twist, push, enter.

Three steps forward, two steps right.

Fold cane—snap, snap, snap. Place on desk, on the desk. Not in the air. Too tired. Long day.

Turn, two steps forward, half-step left.

Bend, reach—blanket.

Soft, sweet smelling blanket.

Pull. Fwoosh.

Love that sound.

Run fingers over sheets. So nice. Can't wait.

Pajamas first.

Always a chore.

Over the head, down the legs, over the feet, into the basket.

Over the head, up the legs, nothing on the feet, into the bed.

Delicious, cool sheets. Puffy, fluffy blanket. Firm, wonderful pillow.

Flip and flop. Shuffle and shift. Comfortable.

Sleep.



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