Tuesday, August 11, 2015

A creature of habit

Yesterday, my best friend told me that you could set a clock by my habits. 

I replied, "yeah, yeah." 

She had to be mistaken, but then when I was at the grocery store, the cashier told me that I wear the same T-shirt, the one with Carol from The Walking Dead touting her cookies on the front, every time I come in, which was always on Monday. Hmm, maybe my best friend is right...

Each morning I walk to the local convenience store, passed the house with the crumbling front porch and the lady with the crackling voice, over the uneven sidewalk that borders the ballet studio, and into Speedway's front doors. The smell of fresh coffee, and the buzz of voices awakens me. I grab a Fudge Round, squeezing it to make sure it's not stale, I hate stale. Walk over to the fountain drinks and pour a big mug of soda and then checkout. Occasionally a car speeds by, going entirely too fast, and I consider flinging my soda at them, but then think, why. So I simply shake my head and my attention goes back to the anticipation of chocolaty goodness on my tongue. 
All of it a habit; a routine, I rather enjoy. 

But this morning a spider web caught my eye. The web wove from a thick patch of ivy to the trunk of an impressive oak tree. Dew hung on the strands like shiny jewels in the morning sun. Then my eyes caught another, and another. All hidden in the landscape. To some it might be nothing, merely something to tear down, but to me, they were each a glorious exclamation point on the mundane things of life. 

Every night the spider has her routine. (After all, Charlotte's Web taught me that all spiders are girls, right?) She toils through the night, until in the morning, she has her magnificent creation. Does she look back and say with pride, "this is it. My life's work." When someone knocks it down, does she throw a pity party? Probably not. 

That little web made me realize that sometimes habits can be a beautiful thing. On my afternoon walk, I reached up and touched a low hanging locust limb. The leaves gently glided across my fingers. Tomorrow, I decided I'd wear my Monday T-shirt on Tuesday. Got to keep people guessing...