Singularity in Sacramento

Photography by Justin Bailie
Content by Suzanne DeZeeuw

I am not number 32 at Noah’s Bagels waiting for a spinach, egg and cheese breakfast to go; I am not fifth in line at the ATM to deposit my check where I have a 10-digit identity; I am not a screaming basketball fan seated in row “T” section 205 with a giant foam finger in one hand and an 8 dollar beer in the other; I am not the third student in the fourth row over from the door waiting for the last six minutes of class to end; I am not the fifth person in line with11 items in the “10 items or less” checkout lane at Safeway on Alhambra.

I am alone, relishing in my moment of singularity. I have found the sacred passageway into the world of myself where I chose to be as great or as small as I feel in that instant. I chose the length and speed of my stride, the manner in which my arms flail around my body, what direction I cast my glance and the integrity, or the absence thereof, of the thoughts that run through my mind and somehow escape my mouth to become barely audible mumbles that I would somehow be ashamed of it I were outside of my singular moment.

Although amid my concrete jungle, nature does not fail me in my moment and I ingest deeply the dewy morning breath and touch the air’s crispness that the nearby river lends my day. And no matter to what distance or for how long I walk, the sun follows me and her rays charge my body with the heat of a wild cat who eyes her pray after days of hunger.

And I move through my day with the electricity of the sun in my veins and relish in the pure clarity of my moment of singularity.