mornings

three years ago, i would wake up every morning after very little sleep and bad dreams, wishing the day had not yet begun - i knew i'd drag myself out of bed a couple of hours later, drink coffee for a while and stare at the wall the rest of the day

my mornings and days got better

a couple of years ago, i'd wake up every morning and wonder how i got so lucky, watching the silent sun beams sneak through the blinds, reminding me that i was living in italy - i'd be eager to greet the day and enjoy my homemade espresso while listening to gavin degraw, thinking i didn't want to be anyone other than what i was trying to be at that time... i'd leave the house through the garden and the gate, bike along the waterfront, enjoying the changing laguna as it rushed by

those were fantastic mornings - even when it rained

the following year, i'd wake up every morning to the sound of traffic in the street and possibly a man selling stuff from his car, screaming the object of this morning's sale in a megaphone - i'd remember the thoughts from the day before where i spent hours bending my mind around conflicts of racism, nationalism and politicism... how could i forget during the night? i'd get out of bed, put the kettle on and go wake up the little lady sleeping in the next room, wait for her with breakfast, hear her tell me a dream she'd had during the night, thinking she's a nutjob!

those were inspirational mornings, and days that seemed to capture all my intellectual powers

later that same year, i'd wake and forget where i was, then remember, and remember that what i was doing was merely postponing the real stuff i was supposed to be doing. i'd wallow in the emptiness of the flat and the darkness of the winter, i'd forget to be creative, i'd force myself to be ambitious but really not want to be

those were disheartening mornings - but even they got better

last year, i'd wake up every morning thinking there are other ways to do things than this particular way. some of those mornings, i would not be able to think of how - but most mornings, the coffee in my kitchen, jazz on the radio and a plan for the day would do the trick

those mornings were alright

exactly one year ago, i was blessed with the presence of a special friend who'd wake up beside me many mornings. he would not always salute the morning for its greatness, as it is sometimes difficult to spot just that one the back of ones eyelids, but to me he would be part of that greatness. i'd put on the radio, make coffee and sit in my kitchen on my own, lingering on that intriguing feeling of wanting to share. i'd start planning and get inspired even before the coffee was gone...

those were beautiful mornings, a turning-point

later that year, i'd wake up every morning to sound of trucks, cows and the milkman on his bike, to tea cups scrambling in the kitchen and somebody wretching in the bathroom. i'd open my eyes and watch my girls sleeping next to me, then greet the day with a thankful thought that i had landed just there at that exact time to this particular job. i'd know there was a meaningful day ahead of me...

those mornings grew harder every day

this year, i've been waking up confused nearly every single morning. for the past months, i've been so many places that i have to screen the room to locate myself... when i wake up here, in this room, i find it hard to get up, i wish i could just lay here for hours wondering, philosophising, figuring stuff out - but i never have the time. these days i wake up every morning with a job to get to, a responsibility to be met at 8 am every morning. it's strangely mind-numbing and satisfying at the same time

today's morning was calm and boring, and it was okay - i actually enjoyed it!