7:12, And the Following Moments

It is now almost my bedtime. I’m out of the shower and not too far away from the moment I will set my alarm clock and climb into bed. But I still remember the beginning of my day. I awoke this morning shortly after 7 AM. I think the clock said 7:12 when I gave it my first bleary-eyed glance. That’s about my normal wake-up time for a weekend day. I rolled groggily to the edge of the bed, swung my feet to the floor, and for a time just sat there in a semi-fog, thinking about whatever might happen to come into my head.

The first thing that popped into my noggin concerned the weather and what I was going to wear for the day. I probably glanced in the direction of my bedroom window to get some clue, but to tell you the truth, I don’t remember for sure. I know that for a moment or two I thought about the previous day, my rendezvous with a nice guy I met through an internet dating website, and how in the end that meeting did not turn out to be all I had hoped it would be; the fault of no one.

I recall precisely what came into my head next. I imagined what it would be like if I were involved with a guy and the two of us were in such harmony that it would be as though we were not only reading each other’s minds, but agreeing with those thoughts. This man could have any name but this morning his name was Kevin. In this ditsy fantasy of mine there would come a time when I would mention to Kevin, “You know, I would love to someday visit Sequoia National Park in California, stay in their lodge, and for a few days wander the forest.”

Kevin’s eyes would twinkle with the mere thought of it and he’d enthusiastically answer, “Katie, I’ve never seen a sequoia tree. Let’s do it. Let’s go to California and see the sequoias.”

There could be a Sunday autumn afternoon when Kevin would want me to go with him to a Patriots’ gameday party attended by his friends and their spouses or significant others; a social event that would find me less than completely comfortable. I would grin and say, “Kevin, are you really sure you want me to go?”

Kevin would examine my face, a vague smile would slowly become his expression, and he would reply, “You really don’t want to go, do you Katie?”

I would grimace just a bit as I mutter, “Well, you know me; those parties are not really my thing. But I’m willing to go if you really want me to. I’m not trying to get out of it.”

Kevin would chuckle and quickly say, “Oh yes you are. Katie, that’s exactly what you are trying to do.” There would be a pause and then Kevin would add, “It’s too bad you have that dentist appointment this afternoon and can’t go to the party.”

For just a second I would be confused, and then I’d giggle and reply, “Yes, too bad. Did you know that he’s one of the few dentists who works on Sunday?”

This morning as I sat on the edge of the bed, I imagined this man, Kevin, lying behind me asleep in my bed, his body partially covered by a rumpled sheet. Suddenly he would stir out of his slumber, yawn, wish me a sleepy good morning, and then murmur, “Katie, why don’t we give ourselves a few minutes to get fully awake then take our turns in the bathroom, brush our teeth, and come back here and heat up this bedspread with a little physical passion. What do you say?”

A smile of anticipation would overtake my lips and I would answer, “Wow, believe it or not, I was thinking that very same thing.”