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The Blooming Hour

3:28 post meridiem.

Sunday.

18° Celsius.

From My bedroom window, I see the wind.

Two Flags I have hanging on my porch are shining in the sunlight as the air moves then up and down *(The Flag on the left side of the porch always blows away onto the porch floor).

I could be sitting on my purple lawn chair *(built for a Child. I didn’t realize that until after I purchased it in 2014) with my two Cats (who would love the breeze), but I can’t.

I’m in bed with Antibiotics coarsing through me, Tachycardia, Blood Pooling, and overall feeling like shit.

I don’t have my Work Schedule yet, so my anxiety level is elevated to maximum torture.

When one is a “Routine” Person/Individual, or has been on a consistent Teaching Schedule, it’s extremely difficult to wait.

My Old Job. My Schedule was always prepared in advance. It had to be. *(Until late November 2017. And we already know how that story goes).

Now, that I’m Disabled, Routine is even more important. It gives me a purpose, a reminder that I am surviving in this.

New Job.

I got lucky.

Last Sunday, my Schedule was sent to me a little after 1p.m. *(Of course when my Truck is broken, unsafe to drive, Engine done).

But, even in all of that tragedy regarding my Truck and the incident between my Mother that same Sunday, I could relax.

I understand where all of this insecurity stems from.

When your Employer for five months erases you, then the Transition due to Construction at my current Job, anyone would feel uneasy about life, income.

But, I want just a piece of normalcy to return to my life.

A fraction of a Routine, so I can manage what is already depleting me *(My Disability).

I received my

New Schedule *(It was always a part of the Plan when I was hired on).

So, I have to be awake in 10 Hours.

While the sun is still blooming.


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