Complete silence…tremendously healing. Leave the television and the radio off. No appliances in use. Enjoy a long walk. Slowly drink a cup of well made coffee with heavy cream and take the time to read a portion of a novel…something from a long disappeared era. Rest from the continual onslaught of noise pollution. Just sit and dream…with coffee and a plate of hot buttered toast…and real cream.
For this was truly the first lazy day in June…when everything around beckoned. ‘Lie down, rest’ and I would not, could not fight it.
I read the vanilla white calendar square’s bold lettering…’This is the first lazy, crazy day in June…by order of Hallmark and the quest for sanity’. Or so I imagined the print read, because how else could I justify simply melting away into goose down? My ‘to do’ list…go hang thyself.
A long month, and so very, very rich…full of color and motion, people, conversations and the endless stream of family birthdays all clumped together in a pile during these thirty days, like so much soft laundry…cake crumbs strewn from the first to the thirtieth. Every last goose feather, plumped and frumped and shaken and smoothed over…sun has bleached that mounded comforter and now, seeking its owner it turns traitor and calls out…’Lie down, for this is truly, truly the very first lazy crazy day in June’.
He was still talking to me and I wanted to listen, but I could not, would not. I watched his mouth moving and I heard the consonants and the vowels and the dipthongs and the hard ‘t’. I understood.
I heard sounds but no longer with any emotion. Goose down drowned it all in a puff fluff and shifted with my weight…the chittering, flippering birds outside the window joined the conspiracy and one single sun beam leaning through the blinds was the conversation’s end. I could not, would not, should not for this was the first lazy, daisy, crazy day in June and I sank into cotton and cool and feathers and silence…
690 Saint Paul 