Essential Morning
New morning, new day. I lift my head from my pillow and blinking, look around. Everything is as I left it the night before. New but old.
The pile of clothes in the corner continues to grow, the pile of paper in the printer continues to shrink. Sleep has left me feeling both refreshed and drained, I have yet to fully wake up. Five more minutes, ten more minutes, two more hours. The day may be ready to begin, but it can wait for me to join it. I'll get there eventually. My alarm goes off. Or I can get there now. I strain to grab my phone on the nightstand and turn off it's alarm. No calls, no messages. My joints creak and complain as roll out to the side of bed. Fan makes it a little cold.. two clicks to turn it off. Daylight makes it bright enough that I don't need the room light, but I turn it on anyway. New but old.
The three S's, clean my teeth, clean myself. Stand underneath the hot water as long as I can, let it thaw the remaining sleep still clinging to my skin and mind. Shampoo, lather, rinse: Conditioner, lather, rinse: Soap, lather, rinse: Repeatrepeatrepeat. Turn the shower knob, water's off. Wring hair, water's out. Comb: front to back, front to back, front to back, repeat. Dry and dress. New day, new clothes. I've worn them before. Lives are full of mundanity. New but old.
Opening my eyes I look at the world around me. Everything is as I left it the night before. News covering school shootings, planes crashing into buildings, bombs exploding in gatherings. People hurt people. We hurt flesh, we hurt minds, we hurt feelings: repeat Intentional, or not, pain happens. It happens to them, it happens to me. It always happened to them, it always happened to me. Lives are full of pain. New but old.
We remember, we mourn loss, we mourn our past. There is another chance. There is always another chance. New but old... but new. New chances to make things worse, new chances to make things better. We learn from our mourning. It's the recognition that matters, the attention it deserves. Mistakes are always made, wounds are opened, feelings are hurt... and we grow, or we ignore. A warning of no mourning. Essential mourning.
Morning greets the new with the mourning of old. Tears sending some to sleep, wake up dry. Wounds heal... and I learn and grow, moving onto my new chances. Lives are full of new chances.
The pile of clothes in the corner continues to grow, the pile of paper in the printer continues to shrink. Sleep has left me feeling both refreshed and drained, I have yet to fully wake up. Five more minutes, ten more minutes, two more hours. The day may be ready to begin, but it can wait for me to join it. I'll get there eventually. My alarm goes off. Or I can get there now. I strain to grab my phone on the nightstand and turn off it's alarm. No calls, no messages. My joints creak and complain as roll out to the side of bed. Fan makes it a little cold.. two clicks to turn it off. Daylight makes it bright enough that I don't need the room light, but I turn it on anyway. New but old.
The three S's, clean my teeth, clean myself. Stand underneath the hot water as long as I can, let it thaw the remaining sleep still clinging to my skin and mind. Shampoo, lather, rinse: Conditioner, lather, rinse: Soap, lather, rinse: Repeatrepeatrepeat. Turn the shower knob, water's off. Wring hair, water's out. Comb: front to back, front to back, front to back, repeat. Dry and dress. New day, new clothes. I've worn them before. Lives are full of mundanity. New but old.
Opening my eyes I look at the world around me. Everything is as I left it the night before. News covering school shootings, planes crashing into buildings, bombs exploding in gatherings. People hurt people. We hurt flesh, we hurt minds, we hurt feelings: repeat Intentional, or not, pain happens. It happens to them, it happens to me. It always happened to them, it always happened to me. Lives are full of pain. New but old.
We remember, we mourn loss, we mourn our past. There is another chance. There is always another chance. New but old... but new. New chances to make things worse, new chances to make things better. We learn from our mourning. It's the recognition that matters, the attention it deserves. Mistakes are always made, wounds are opened, feelings are hurt... and we grow, or we ignore. A warning of no mourning. Essential mourning.
Morning greets the new with the mourning of old. Tears sending some to sleep, wake up dry. Wounds heal... and I learn and grow, moving onto my new chances. Lives are full of new chances.