Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

It is said that nicotine is a stimulant, but apparently I’ve had the wrong definition of stimulant all these years, as I lit up my first smoke of the day to enjoy with my cup of coffee, done to jump start my system, wake me up and energize me for the day. I was misinformed.
I’ve had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately, and have risen at 5 or 5:30 a.m., feeling refreshed and energetic, despite my lack of sleep. The battle for good rages on in my lungs, as if the good soldiers realize that this time their leader is determined to win the battle, leaving me with a burning throat, some sinus issues I can’t even explain, and a cough that feels like I’m expelling dry hay from my chest.
But, my skin looks better, my tongue is no longer furry, my breath is fresh and I have a never-ending supply of energy. This morning, rather than lounging in bed until my alarm went off, I got up, drank my coffee, did a little editing, then decided to head to work early. There was a strange smell about the city as I headed out on my bicycle, kind of like overcooked parmesan cheese. I decided to ride all the way to Union Station and catch the train there, about 1.5 miles from home. The streets were deserted as I cruised along, and I was hit with a moment of “spontaneous euphoria.” Every breath I took made me feel lighter and carefree. I sang out loud as I cruised along, not worrying about anyone hearing my off-key singing, because I was moving too fast for them to judge me anyway.
Donations were slow at the office, so I spent two hours scrubbing the tile floor of the center, disco music blasting on Pandora. The afternoon picked up as rain clouds rolled in, forcing an emergency evacuation of yard sales. Cars and trucks lined up at my door, and we quickly unloaded rooms full of donations before the rain fell. After ten hours I was still full of energy and feeling great. The rain had passed, leaving the ground wet and the air fresh, so I decided to ride my bike home.
All the way home. Not just to the train station. Nope. I was determined to ride the full 13 miles or so home. I could have done it in nine miles, but I wanted to ride through the City Park, which has become one of my special places recently, after my accidental discovery of all its offerings. I headed down Monaco, and knew my bus driver Gary would be disappointed that we wouldn’t share our routine Saturday banter—I ask about his life, he subtly tries to get me to go out with him, I flatteringly decline.
The bus passed me and he waved, then pulled over at the stop a few hundred yards in front of me. Sweet Gary was waiting for me. I pulled up alongside as he opened the door, and gave him a dazzling grin.
“I’m goin’ all the way Gary!”
Shock and disappointment showed on his face.
“All the way?” he confirmed.
“All the way, I’ll race you.”
“You’re on.” He said, a little too enthusiastically, trying to hide his disappointment.
I raced on, and my ride took me through some beautiful neighborhoods I’ve never seen before. The streets were lined with huge lawns, (no sidewalks through, so I had to ride on the road) that led to palatial mansions with white columns and huge porches. I finally reached the park and coasted through the zoo, the entrance to the gardens and the golf course. Even though my legs were starting to burn and my butt bone was feeling battered, by the time I got home I felt better than I ever remember. Like I’m living in a whole new world. A good, healthy, clean world…

June 4, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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