An empty coffee cup, a spoon dug into a container of instant coffee and a quart of milk to the right. Clock is reading 514am and the world is humming, “middle of the night.” I walk towards the front of the house and I can hear the sounds of crashing waves – relentless reminders to never stop trying, never stop trying.
Coffee cup is full now and the chairs in the front room are unoccupied. They face the water, coffee table separating the two as one of the usual inhabitants of those chairs is sleeping upstairs in bed. I think about her in the white sheets pulled up to her chin and I smile.
Looking out the windows I can see a soft brushed glimmer of sunrise and it quickly spreads like a wildfire across the horizon. The seagulls have arisen and are searching for some breakfast, squawking their presence as I hear a newspaper being delivered against my front door.
I sit down and close my eyes and find myself back to the times when the milk man actually delivered milk bottles when I was growing up. I remembered those cold mornings when the milk would come half-frozen. I would carry them in and my father, busy at the counter making coffee, would smile.
Years have flown way too fast and I find myself stuck somewhere between what I once was and who I want to be. Hence the waves hitting, never giving up and continuing its fight to break through an invisible barrier. It piques something inside of me which reminds me that I am no longer 25 years old; in fact as I gingerly approach 50 I find myself lost somewhere in the dark, somewhere in a room with no doors only windows way above my height – I search for a chair, a table, anything –
Something startles me and I stand…Alive.
Coffee is cold now so I pour it out and make a fresh one – I smile, I did break through that barrier didn’t I? It was as simple as opening my eyes and walking the straight path through the walls.
Freddy Zalta 