Gym Story #2: Awakenings

Awakenings

Before reading this, you should read the first story in the series!

Joe plopped down by his kitchen table. His tortured body was finally at ease, but his mind was troubled. He sighed, passing his hands through his disheveled hair. Wherever upon the floor he gazed, a dark smear lied. His thousand yard stare had scorched the wood over the years, but unlike the ground, his mind had not been ignited by the fires of passion for quite some time. Here Joe sat, waiting for…something. He snatched an old dictionary from its shelf and fluttered its brown pages. Dust powdered the air, illuminating the dim light with flecks of white. The smell of aged paper produced a grimace from Joe, disturbing his daily mourning. Sensing this, Depression returned at once to caress his face, gently. Joe found it quite comforting. “Death…, decadence, decay…, despair…, deterioration.”  Though the dictionary was replete with colorful adjectives and compelling nouns, he saw only what he chose to. As he read, a wave of pain washed over him. He moaned in agony and rubbed his aching jaw. Glancing at the fridge calendar, he seemed quite displeased. “Tuesday …damn it. That’s two days from now.”

The pained tooth released Joe from Depression’s coddling hands. “Snap out of it man!” He shook his head, and stood tall. Quickly, he swiped some painkillers from the counter and grabbed a glass of water. “Ah… that should do it. Damn tooth.” He circled the room, returning the arcane dictionary to its shelf, where he stopped. He took a moment to review his small collection. On the left lied childhood favorites:  a book of fables, an old National Geographic, and a dinosaur primer. As a youngster, stories of prehistoric times and faraway places would comfort him. They were his escape. These days, he preferred nostalgic fantasy to fairy tales. The shelf above contained almanacs, encyclopedias, and collections of facts. He had an uncanny affinity for trivia, and he once took joy in sharing his knowledge. Over the years, he had stopped for the fear of seeming a braggart. Finally, the top shelf held three of his greatest achievements: a high school diploma, a wrestling trophy, and a poetry contest plaque. In the corner lied an old college photograph. Worn and dog-eared, it was an old portrait of people he once knew. In it he stood, right in the middle. He glanced at the clock and sighed. Time weighed on him heavily, but he had not given up yet. The week would start tomorrow.

Joe walked to his bathroom. By the mirror, he faced himself. He rinsed his cheeks over the tiny bathroom sink, surveying every fold and crevice. He watched his hands. There were full of calluses and recovering wounds. They had taken much abuse, mostly self-inflicted. Joe labored for his money. Out of fraternal duty, his brother provided him a small position in his modest business, assembling electronics. If you asked Joe, he would tell you that his livelihood was the product of pity. His eyes still rested upon his hands. Currently preoccupied with healing, they were capable of much more. In his spare time, Joe whittled small figures, mostly birds. A contrast to the catharsis of the gym, the slow, methodical removal of wood completely occupied him. The worries of the day would fall away like the chips of wood that dusted the floor. His whittling knife, though small, had kept Depression at bay for several years. Joe was looking at his ebony nightingale when he dropped down hard on his bed. He glanced at the ceiling. A “Rocky” poster stared back – redemption was a word sacred to Joe, a dream, a life goal. “Rocky’s” theme resounded in his soul; it gave him hope. The man was ready to strike. It was the moment before his knockout punch.

Awaiting sleep’s soft embrace, Joe pondered the prior events of the gym. He smiled. In his life, it was a source of continued progress. It was his temple of hope. For years, he had prayed devoutly, dedicating his time to research, nutrition, and training. He also understood that he could apply the same resolve to other areas in his life. With a grin and a renewed lust for tomorrow, he drifted away… Immediately, Joe sprung up off his bed, or so he thought. He glanced around cautiously; he was no longer home. “Huh, I must be dreaming.” A glorious haze wafted around the ethereal landscape, flaunting the colors of a seaside sunrise. It almost seemed alive. There was some semblance of a ground, but it was only felt, not seen. He now walked down the long hallway of his childhood home. As he turned the corner to enter the kitchen, he stopped abruptly. He felt a familiar presence. A powerful tranquility overcame him and tears began to roll down his cheeks. In the distance, a pot rumbled, and its moist steam wafted across his face. Verdant ferns split the radiant sunlight which beamed in through old French windows. The walls came alive in this play of light, and the sun warmed him. After a brief respite, he opened his eyes once more, and there stood a gentle old woman. She blessed Joe with a generous smile. “Grandma?”

He was stunned. In the sweltering heat, a subtle mist began to tickle his face. The sunburst cooled him. Joe stood there paralyzed with his mouth agape and slowly filling with water. The woman walked towards him and brandished a silver handkerchief. “After all these years, you still drool, eh?” She dabbed his mouth, and Joe collected himself. He could not see the woman clearly, as the rising sun lit her from behind. She wore a long dress adorned with the colors of nature. In modest earth-tones, she projected class, confidence, and an overwhelmingly unselfish benevolence. Her hair was the color of freshly fallen snow. It was kept gently aloft by the wind, which was accompanied by the soothing petrichor of summer rain. Her loving aura eased the burdens that had crushed Joe’s soul. “I’m so glad I can see you again! Why are you here? Where have you been?” Tears of happiness became muddied with those of loss and grief. “I have no one… and I’m so lonely. I don’t know where I’m headed. When I was little, remember I used to tell you that I’d save the world one day? Remember that? I was so sure…” Joe fell to his knees. “Why am I here? What’s my purpose…? Please guide me.” His voice now faint, he dropped his head in her lap, clutching her legs like a child. Her tiny hand rested on his head, combing his golden hair. Depression was not welcome here. She wouldn’t have it.

“My child. Oh my little baby…” She gently raised his chin with her soft hands. “Listen to me… you won’t see me again for quite some time.” Wiping his tears, he raised his eyes to her gentle smile. “Joseph, life is but a glimpse. Death is only a veil. Peek through, and life is what you see. You only get a quick look Joseph, so look!” Joe finally spoke up. “What’s behind the veil? Who am I? How did I get here, wherever here is?” With a twinkle in her eye, she looked away for a small while, considering her next words carefully. “That isn’t for you to know, yet. Remember, life is only a glimpse. Don’t close your eyes Joseph, my love.” With a smile on his face, Joe’s eyes opened once again. There was Rocky, staring down upon him from above. His pillow was soaked in sweat and tears, much like his life. He grinned mischievously. His grandmother had once told him, “You must rest in the bed that you make, so make it well.” At once, Joe bounced off of that bed, bounding towards his closet. He tore away the old pillowcase with ferocity and determination. He would make his bed, right here, right now. It wasn’t every day that someone had a divine revelation. Was it just a dream? It didn’t matter to Joe. Everything was clear now. The infant sun’s dim light made its way into his room. It was early morning. Joe walked to his window and parted the dark drapes. He wouldn’t miss the sunrise anymore.

Special Thanks to Bhudpaul Dharamraj (The Thumbnail Model) and Hector Naranjo (Photo Editing)