Lush morning comfort
Perched, cross-legged on a chair in Starbucks, finishing my
coffee, I watch the line of people enter. People dressed in suits, slacks,
formal dresses and heels, and those in hiking boots, shorts and t-shirts. My
sweats and comfy sweater seem out of place. I have been awake since 5:26 in the
morning, when the shining sun filled my car, parked tucked into a corner
besides a drive-through only Duncan donuts and some nondescript businesses
which were closed for the day. I had sleeping options, but a long morning commute
with traffic, or shooting in a grungy Motel 6 in exchange for lodging, or
adding an extra hour detour to my morning did not seem worth the time when I
could drive to my general shooting area, sleep in my car and have the morning
to myself. I do not do this often, but occasionally it is my preference. I had
a comfortable bed the other night, and will have a couch tonight and
accommodations for the foreseeable future, so a night crumpled in my car is a
reminder about my youth, vitality and how fortunate I am to be living with a
bit more freedom than some people, even if it means cramped quarters. I can
still afford my Starbucks coffee (the $2.25 drip, not the fancy coffee, mind
you) and breakfast sandwich, but the overpriced Boston-area hotels hardly seem
worthwhile when I will be climbing around rocks and trees soon after waking.
My timer is ringing. I must now dunk my head in the bathroom
sink, run my fingers through my hair and drive to the park where I will spend
the morning creating art with my form entangled in nature.
