If someone told me I've been living in my new home for two weeks, I'd believe it just as much as if they said two months. My current environment is so unfamiliar that every day brings something new. I'm like a growing child who thinks learning to tie shoelaces is a miracle. Add to this the complete change in my life, and it makes sense to feel strange about the place and being disconnected from the dominant fourth dimension.
The last years I spent on Earth were constantly rainy and gray, even on the brightest, sunniest days. I was also invisible in the way that a homeless person with only one set of clothes can be. Now that I have suddenly been pulled out from under a pile of wet cardboard into a warm and lively environment, it has stirred up my mental compost.
Fortunately, the soil of my soul is still alive, and growth began as if by itself. When the first new shoots pushed through the mulch, I examined them curiously to see what they were. I didn't recognize the varieties yet, but my strength was already intensifying. Just a little more time and nutrients, and the fragile veins would fill with life.
Life has a strange way of picking up speed and switching to the fast lane. Many people's brakes have become defective due to lack of use. If they cannot be repaired at full speed, crashing into a wall is inevitable. As I crawled along the damp and cold alleys reserved for those who have fallen behind, I was completely lost. My old injuries felt incurable, the pain fresh every day. Until that little leprechaun-sized creature with shaggy hair, dressed in a black cloak, took me to its spaceship. Everyone needs a savior if their own strength is not enough to rise again.
When all these thoughts crisscrossed in my head, lighting up too many synapses, it felt like a spinning washing machine was installed between my shoulder. Behind the window next to my corner table, Saturn gleamed its soft light. Focusing on this, the inner turmoil began to gradually subside, and I was able to observe my surroundings clearly. Customers came and went. Each one was stranger than the last, but I recognized some of them. Orders were brought to the tables, dirty dishes returned to the kitchen. No one asked for the check, and Winston and Cook didn't have to run after anyone when they left without paying. I was also served coffee and a sandwich. There was not even a hint in the direction of payment. And now I understand why.
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What is the most valuable currency? What does everyone have, but no one has more than the other? There are species in our universe that understand this concept differently, but they still don't have any more of it. It is time. For some, it passes faster, for others slower. It is relative depending on the observer, but here in this café, its value is constant.
Every customer gives back to this community in the form of time. The realization came, when my mind got enough idle time. I slowly began to feel great satisfaction from my own small deeds. There was no feeling of obligation, but pure desire to give back. I don't know exactly how everyone else pulls their weight, but someone has to bring in that strange wine and everything else that's on offer. In return, they get a safe place where everyone is welcome. Absolutely everyone. It doesn't matter how strange you look or how unusual your habits are. All you have to do is respect this space and all its residents and customers.
Pearl is a peculiar creature. She'd been watching me throughout my quiet introspection. Sensing that I was somehow ready, Pearl slid down from the top of her climbing tree like a solid liquid. She jumped onto my table and took her familiar regal stance. Her ears were erect, sitting posture straight, and the whitish tail wrapped around her legs. The cat looked at me and purred. Wurp took care of his job at the bar counter. "You've learned something valuable," Pearl said. "I knew you were more than just an ordinary observer."
I didn't know how to respond, but there was no need to. Pearl stared deep into my soul for almost too long. But just long enough for the message to get through. Then she stood up on her four paws, purred approvingly, and nuzzled my arm. "Let's not make this last part a habit, though," she said as she left. This little private moment surely went unnoticed by everyone except Winston. He smiled at me and then went back to his business.
By examining my current fatigue, I noticed a difference. It's no longer the exhaustion brought on by vague anxiety and an inexplicable burden. Now it comes from meaningful physical activity, taking responsibility, and belonging to something. I guess the universe always had a place reserved for me. It just took time to find it.
Till next time.
- Johnny