Awake In The Morning

Awake In the Morning

There is a small slit of light peeking through the blinds. The early morning sun’s rays have managed to penetrate my room despite my roommate and my best efforts at darkness. But then again what care is it of mine? Is it not seven o’clock on a Saturday morning with a cool breeze, from the chilly night, still lingering somewhere in the midst of this new morning? I don’t care much about this yellow finger intruding upon this dreary room. I was already awake before its light had touched my eyes.

“Wake up! Wake up and move!” cries the sun through the nook in the blinds.

“I am up. What do you want of me today Helios?” although awake, my voice still seems to sound half-dead.

“It’s a beautiful day and there’s nothing productive to do in a bed…when you’re woman is four hours away.”

“Fuck off, Helios. Just go fuck yourself for that comment.”

But Helios, the Greek god of the sun, is right. There is nothing a bed is useful for after waking. Not without my girlfriend here. With her in my arms, sleeping well into midmorning, I would proclaim that a good, if not the best, reason to stay away from the sun’s bright hands. There’s that look of utter peacefulness on a woman’s, at least her, face when she’s deep in sleep. There is no camera, but my mental picture taker, that can capture this phenomenon.

My girlfriend sadly, as Helios has taunted me, is not here to enjoy the birthing morning with me. She is sleeping alone in her own bed at the moment. Soon to wake up, get ready for work, and be on her way. In less than twelve hours, though, my love will be in her car driving to visit me.

“Stop torturing yourself fool!” exclaimed Helios.

“I told you to go fuck off. I’m getting up. So stop bitching you little good for nothing, high, and mighty gas-bag.”

Just then the light left the room and all seemed black as if Hades himself had entered the room.

A moment later the golden finger of Helios breached the inner sanctum that is my room yet again. Did he really shut himself off at my comment as if to say: “I’ll show you who’s good for nothing.”?

No, my imagination is just getting the best of me this morning. It happened to be that the rotation of the fan on the windowsill had caught the one misplaced piece of the blind and forced it closed tighter than the rest. Then with its movement the fan opened the blinds again. For all I know this was going on since I had woken up. Sometimes, though, in a state of being half awake stranger things than the sun shutting off seem to be possible.

So, I guess now I’m up and awake; on to starting my day. At least mornings are my most productive time in the day. This is the case in during summers, at least, when I have no classes to wake up for. Many summer mornings, when the sun is still young and the night chill still lingers and the earth’s precious offspring begin their mourning song to the passing night, I take it upon myself to step out into the new day and take all that it has to offer me. During the semester it is harder to find motivation to wake up that early. Students, like me, seem to know that those extra minutes of lying in bed seem so important. Maybe it is because we think it will hold off the onslaught of stress brought on during a regular day. Others just need their sleep.

Today I won’t fight the urge to prolong the day. I throw on my shoes and grab my keys. As I step through the resident hall’s main door I give my formal good morning to Helios by squinting at his beautiful majesty and thanking him for life. This is a way to make up for my earlier confrontation. But me and Helios go back a long way. There have been many mornings of squabbling in past encounters.

I head off left out of the door toward the bike rake. A good bike ride is a good way to start a morning like this.  As I step onto my bicycle, after unlocking it from its corral-like prison, it begs me to go.

“Off into the vast unknown, sir” Pandora, my bike, half asks, half announces.

“I think that is a swell idea old friend. Let’s be on our way.”

And off we went; old Pandora, curious discoverer of the unknown, and me the drifter who found roots in the world. They may be long roots linking me to another’s heart but they are roots indeed. Where shall I go? What road shall I take?

“Pandora,” I scream through the rushing morning air.

The chill penetrates my soul through my bare chest and exposed legs. My body only covered by shorts. Dressed like this I can become one with the morning that surrounds me. It has shown itself to me. In turn I shall not shy away myself from it.

“Yes, sir, you said something?” obeys Pandora, my faithful metallic steed.

“Through the mountains we ride. It is time to kiss my flower’s lips. These roots may be long but they are strong. But her petals still need my touch as I need hers.

“So on we shall go through those mountains, on past the rivers and lakes, on to My Love and with the straightest path we steer. Onward sweet Pandora, onward through the sunset and the night. Luna shall help us tire not while she bathes us in her moonlight.”

What a glorious day this will be.

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