Page 29 of Red Zone Realizations
My routine isn’t complete yet. The small room on the first floor was meant to be an office, but what do I need that for? I turned it into something much more useful.
The yoga mat is laid out perfectly in the middle of the room. The sun shines through a north-facing window. Plants hang from the ceiling supplying fresh oxygen. It’s simply perfect in here.
I pull the yoga mat out of the middle of the room and replace it with the thick gray meditation pillow. Nothing settles the mind and helps you take in what you learned like mediation. It’s part of my everyday routine. Twice on game days. Some guys like to eat something specific, wear a special pair of socks, or listen to a set playlist, but I like to meditate.
The best thing is it’s the same everywhere you go because it’s always you. You’re just accessing yourself and your breath intentionally. I can’t think of any time in life where this hasn’t been useful. It’s important to relax your brain… just like cooling your body down after a workout.
I settle into the cushion and get my legs comfortable. I have more freedom with how I want to sit here than I do when I meditate on the field before a game. The cushion is comfy under my butt as I pull up the mediation app I like, scrollingthrough my options. It shows my last session which is my favorite.
Momentarily, I’m pulled toward thoughts of Audrey. What did she do today? Did she think about me? What is she doing right now? The sound of the meditation brings me back and I have to shake those thoughts away. I imagine that they are a piece of paper on the wind, blowing right by. I acknowledge my need to talk to her and tell my brain that we will text her when we’re done.
With a clear mind I hit play on the meditation I selected to wind down with and listen as the calming music comes over the speakers.
Chapter Thirteen
AUDREY
“It was great seeing you, too!”
“Say hi to your parents for me, now.”
“I sure will!”
I turn back to my cart and refocus on unloading groceries onto the conveyor belt. I can’t believe I ran into Mr. Ron at H-E-B. He looks good for being well into his seventies. I haven’t seen him since Sarah’s graduation party. He used to be in Space City Auto all the time, getting parts for his hobby renovations, but as it got harder for him to get around and his son got too busy, he hasn’t stopped in as much.
While I push my bagged groceries out of the store and into the parking lot, I pull up the family group text. Mom would love to hear this.
ME: You’ll never guess who I saw in H-E-B today! Mr. Ron! He says hello to everyone and hopes to stop by the store soon!
I don’t wait for a reply as I load everything in the car to head home. Grocery shopping is the worst. It’s so dysfunctional. Touch everything from the shelf to the cart.Then the cart to the checkout. Then the cart to the car. Car to the house. Countertop to the fridge. It’s never ending and it’s completely inefficient.
Once everything is put away and the new snacks are sorted into their plastic pantry organizer, I check my phone.
No response from anyone.
That’s cool. People are busy. The shop doesn’t close for another hour anyway. Everyone will see it later when they’re home for the evening.
I pop a frozen pizza into the oven because it should be illegal to have to cook food and grocery shop on the same day.
I find my mind drifting as I wait for the timer to go off.
I’m not sure what I’m ready for, and I’m still one hundred percent sure he’s going to head for the hills when we get far enough into this that I tell him I don’t want kids.
Just how far is that, exactly? Is it like part of the pre-sex birth control conversation?
Like, “Oh yeah, I’ve got an IUD because I don’t ever want to reproduce.” Then we have to stop sexy time for him to break up with me because he knows he wants to have a son to teach how to play football? No, no.
I figure I have at least three months, and even then, he might get sick of me for a variety of other reasons before that.
If I told Nicole this, she would tell me that I’m convincing myself of things that won’t happen again, but I don’t care. She’s not here. And that’s exactly why I’m not calling her right now even though I know she’s on her way to her NICU night shift.
I continue to mull all this over while feeding the guinea pigs their dinner. Tonight’s entree is all the ends of the green beans I trimmed for dinner yesterday. Then I watch this guy onYouTube waste scammers’ time while I eat my BBQ chicken pizza. This time he was testing to see just how long they were willing to stay on hold. One guy did it for six hours before the YouTuber hung up on him.
I clear my plate and wash the sheet pan. When I check my phone again there are a couple messages in the family chat. I check them, expecting acknowledgements about me seeing Mr. Ron, but it’s Sarah sending a picture of Mikey in his tee-ball uniform.
Sarah
Batter up!
