Write about the first thing you see in the morning.
The first thing I see when I wake up is nothing. I’m practically blind without my contacts/glasses. So, I take a few heartbeats to just lay there and breathe. Emery is usually nestled into my side. I often complain that she needs to start sleeping in her own bed because she rolls so much. She’s also nine. I get smacked or kicked at least three times during the night. And even though I have a king size bed I always end up with only 10” of space. But if I’m being honest, I’ll probably cry when she finally agrees with me on sleeping in her own room. I already have a hard time sleeping as it is, and it just gets worse when I’m alone in my bed. As crazy as it may seem, there’s a lot of comfort in knowing that she’s right next to me. She runs hot so I can usually feel her body heat. I can hear her breathing. Sometimes she lets out these little snores, or she talks in her sleep. Softly, almost a whisper. I take that feeling of security, safety, and hold onto it for a few minutes.
I can normally tell that the room isn’t as dark as a few hours before, and I can hear Violet whining to be let out of her crate. I reach over onto my side drawer to grab my glasses. With a yawn, I put them on. I can see the soft glow of the hall nightlight. I hear Draco snoring loudly in the living room. My curtains are a light grey, and even though the sun hasn’t come up very far I can tell that it will be soon. “Alright little, it’s time to get up,” I say out loud. “Five more minutes,” she mumbles back as she rolls over. Taking the comforter with her. I sit up and swing my legs off the bed. Sighing I close my eyes. There’s a battle going on inside of my head. A part of me wants to get back into bed, snuggle up, and go back to sleep. The other part of me says there are bills to pay and mouths to feed. So, I open up my eyes again, and after a few blinks, I read the canvas on my wall. I re-read it. Violet’s whining gets louder, and I can hear Draco finally waking up. Stretching, and then his nails on the floor. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick Tick.
I look back over my shoulder at Emery. Wishing I could be that little again. When the only thing on your mind at 6 AM was whether or not your mom was going to give you that extra five minutes. Ten if you were really lucky. And then I lift myself up, a greyish tint is covering the room, and I shuffle to find my sliders. I slowly make my way to Violet, and let her out. Opening the back door I shuffle the dogs out. “C’ mon guys. Outside.” I can see the dark green grass as I lean against the door. One neighbor has their kitchen light on and the other is being picked up by their co-worker. It smells like morning and wet earth. Everything outside is still relatively quiet and our neighborhood hasn't fully woken up yet. And this is probably my favorite time of the day. Normally, I rush through all of this. Always running late; always in a hurry. But then there are days when I pay attention. When I take it all in and soak it up. I give thanks for another morning. Then I close the door on that stillness and open the one full of chaos.
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