ode to the ordinary

Jo and I are both missing the ordinary things right now, so we wrote about it. :)


sliding on the freshly mopped floors of an empty walmart, headphones in, music blasting, and nobody is there to stare. driving down a lonely road, feet propped up, windows down, yelling in the dark. the chill of the night at a gas station between home and the airport, stepping into the oddly familiar rows of snacks and phone chargers– you think you’ve seen the cashier before, but you can’t be sure, so you smile and simply leave. walking downstairs on a saturday morning, devoid of any sights or sounds but the undisturbed morning. the swish of a basketball hoop in the sweltering summer heat, flipflops smacking cement. your bedroom in the summer, empty but waiting, unmade bed and undeveloped film from a disposable camera, half-empty candy bars and a bluetooth speaker at 10 percent. tapping enter call into a group chat and being able to laugh for hours at the best nothings possible. watering the hospital plants on the patio, watching the city below inchworm its way around. rushing to the phone room at the words “your sister is on the line, waiting for you”. microwaved pizza on a friday night. bonfire at the new church, marshmallows sticking to hot dogs with a sugarysavoryspicy tang to it. the sky streaking purple as you walk down the street, singing carols to anyone who’ll look your way. cutting your hair and feeling like a new person as the hairdresser describes her husband’s father’s funeral in great detail. biting your lip as you steal a glance at someone across the room, grinning like an idiot when they say your name. a matcha green tea frappe on campus, sputtering as the seniors ruffle your head. “your sister didn’t say you were literally her mini!” falling leaves on empty streets, dog following you to the swings as the sun sets. driving for what feels like hours to shop for groceries. confusing the cashier because of different skin tones, getting away with a box of fruit gummies. “y’all are siblings?” “regrettably.” sneaking into room 102 to hear the vibrant sounds of a choir singing in unison. banging out unwritten melodies on the piano and harmonizing with whoever sings first. bad movie nights with much better refreshments. plopping on the couch with your self-appointed therapist on the phone, “am i supposed to feel like this after everything that happened?” so free, so full, patting people’s dogs and returning shopping carts to small stores, screaming at concerts and snapping photographs of people in the doctor’s office, is this what life is meant to be? the kindness of strangers that take one look at you, bleeding, knee-scraped, shy you, and tell their daughters to go up to tita maria’s stall over by the school to get some hydrogen peroxide for this english-speaking– you can… understand? oh, and they nod, starting to fill you in on the story of how they came to the island. whizzing around on a motorcycle, snapping blurry shots of detailed lives. goofing around at the mall, grabbing the cheapest snacks because the change in your pockets can’t match the euphoria in your heart. running up the stairs in a game of people-tag. old-time popcorn and cinema chill, laughter and tears and love–

in only a second, it fades into the vast fabric of time.
the new threads start weaving themselves in.

want more?

6 thoughts on “ode to the ordinary

  1. Why does this remind me of how beautiful it is to be alive? “being able to laugh for hours at the best nothings possible” is perfection. ” sneaking into room 102 to hear the vibrant sounds of a choir singing in unison” AH. The aesthetic is so strong.

    Liked by 2 people

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