Love, Me

Migraines and Jazz

This story came to me after quite the struggle. I laugh when I think of it now but then I just wanted to vomit and sleep. I had a migraine and was frustrated at the world for making me 24 and clueless. Already feeling I was trapped in a dead-end job with no prospects. Not only was my brain screaming. It was screaming in Jazz. "What a Wonderful World" by Louie Armstrong. I never liked the song. Not that it is a bad song. As a matter of fact, it is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard. Nonetheless, the song has always unsettled me and brought tears to my eyes. It makes my stomach churn and sends tingles down my arms. It makes me want to weep for people and things I've never had or lost. It makes me feel like a child who spun in too many circles and for just a moment they fear that the world will never stop spinning. That damn song plagued me all day. Eventually, I did cry to the melancholy tune in my head. Dramatic? Sure. Migraines somehow bring out the angsty teen in me. My one emotional pal, food, had now become my enemy. After taking a possibly dangerous amount of Ibuprofen and Melatonin sleep finally found me, huddled under my covers, clutching my head. Around midnight my eyes sprang open. I think my brain was surprised because the cursed pain was finally gone. The song though was still funeral marching through my head. Time to lay that casket down, so this little blurb came to be.  Looking back at it now, I think my body was just begging me to let myself create something. Damn what the final product may look like. I slept like a baby afterward.

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I've never liked sleep. She does. She wakes before the sun to a silent world. I wake to a mug of warm coffee and a croissant next to my right, the sun cheering through the curtains, and a feather stroke on my cheek..."Good morning love."

Except for when it's not. Except for the mornings when the sun cheers through the window and a whimper fills the room. The street becomes so loud at that moment. I want to scream at the world to give her some silence as saltwater streams down her cheeks and the corners of the sweet lips quiver.

Those days I wake up to a cold floor under my feet. Setting a too-hot cup of tea and some slightly burned toast next to her. I can never seem to get it right. Then I lay next to her and whisper sweet falsehoods of love and security in her left ear. I wonder if her right ear can hear my deceit.

I whisper until her left ear seems to believe me. The tears stop and she whispers, "I love you."

Some lies should never be told....so I say "I'm late for work." Yesterday morning she would've helped me with my tie and handed me my briefcase. Today I went to work with a tie that slightly clashed with the festive button-up and pineapple socks I chose. Some paperwork forgotten on the counter as I grab my briefcase. She would've remembered.

"Have a good day." Silence rang as I waited for a response. It seemed to hold me there for a moment, paralyzed. Then a whimper, a sniff, a choked whine break the spell. As my right-hand turns the handle and I exit the apartment I think to myself, "Her right ear must've heard the lies."

The next morning I woke to warm coffee, a croissant, the sun cheering through my window, and her soft feather stroke.

And I think to myself, "What a wonderful world."

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Love, Me.

Thanks Louie.