It’s past 11am, my alarm snoozed again for the 4th time. Outside, I can hear my neighbors chattering, scolding her daughter for whatever God-given-reason-why. Slowly I went back under my sheets, closing my eyes, closing my thoughts, loosing again in my own dream world. I’ve never been a morning person. It’s always a drag to get up in the cold and force yourself to even pee for a minute. Not even the smell of fried rice from the kitchen can help me wake up.
Until there was you.
It was 2012 when I first realized how good mornings were. Or how “good mornings” were good after all. There was a reason to wake up at 7am to check for your texts, to see if you have made it to work, or if you were still stuck in traffic and you just need someone to calm you because you will be running late this time. And no amount of caffeine can ever replace how you perked me up every time you call. There’s an added espresso shot in my day from the sound of your voice alone. And just like that you have changed my seemingly rigid lifestyle.
For a good 4 weeks, you kept that sun rose with elegance. Sometimes even making me wake up even before the sun rose just to be the first one to send you that good morning text. And it was always a thrill to wait for your reply. Suddenly, mornings were great and the rest of the days had been miraculously made bearable. Suddenly, mornings were created.
But as all things are, mornings too come into passing. The welcoming cold breeze extends from morning until noon. We see each other less often, you sent morning greetings less frequent. I checked your facebook and saw that you have made a different account. It was almost sunset when I found out. There was a forlorn twilight seeping through my window. I’m not the only person that your sun rose up for and that you also shine for others. You also shine to others. It was naïve of me to believe that I was the only planet that your sun revolves to. My world catapulted outside of its orbit. I was lost as it turns to night.
I didn’t get enough sleep that night, saved by the countless beers I bought to help me drowse. It felt cold, long, and empty. The next day I woke up at 7am. I didn’t set for any alarm. I think it was a force of habit that you got me used to for a month. But there were no good mornings. No updates. No notifications. I closed again my eyes, shut my thoughts from the outside world, hid under the sheets. Why were mornings were created? I snoozed for an indefinite hour. I wished it was night.
