Annie sat at the dining room table and began eating her
cereal. She didn’t even pay attention to the task, but seemed to sense where
the spoon should go without drawing her attention away from the book she was
studying. Simultaneously, she was singing to a song she was listening to for
the first time, mumbling assumed lyrics in between her bites of Honey Bunches
of Oats. I stood behind her, finding humor in the preoccupied existence that
she lives, and really that we all live—where each of us mmultitask, not fully experiencing
each aspect of our life as an individual part, but as a combination of so many
senses as a whole. I asked her how she was doing, and she made a grunting noise
that perhaps was an okay—her attention still focused on her morning ritual.
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