Hello again, good people!
So tomorrow is Monday, quite possibly one of the most hated days of the week. Therefore, I took the liberty of writing a short piece based on another day of the week. Enjoy, friends.
I open my eyes as my alarm goes off. It’s 6:30 a.m. Perfect. The day I’ve been waiting for is finally here. I grin inwardly, still too exhausted to make the effort to actually do it. In one fluid movement, I roll out of my bed and stand up straight on my feet. Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I mentally wake up. Then I quickly touch my toes ten times, followed by fourteen push-ups—I’m working to get to fifty, but it takes time—and then do twenty sit-ups. Gotta try to keep in shape.
A quick shower is in order, after which I brush my teeth. Even though I don’t have to, I fix my bed because I can. And because I’m partly a neat freak. Once that’s done, I grab my backpack, then I open my bedroom door and step out. I’m tempted to race down the stairs, but my little siblings and parents are still asleep. I don’t know how they can be, but they are. Maybe they don’t realize what today is.
Downstairs, I grab a bagel and spread some cream cheese on it, then wash it down with some milk. I leave a note on the refrigerator, telling the parents where I’ll be, even though they know. After all, it’s that day.
In five minutes, I’m on my bike, pumping my legs as fast as I can go. As I whiz down the road, I take in the surroundings. There aren’t that many people out—a few morning joggers, the odd couple, several cars. Most people are sleeping in. Good. There’s less noise, which allows me to hear the birds singing their morning song. The cool wind blows in my face, and I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. I’m alive!
Soon I coast to a stop in front of the local coffee store. Mr. Edwards is already up and serving coffee and breakfast to the few people in there. Soft bluegrass plays through the strategically located speakers, and there’s a barely audible buzz as people sip their hot drinks and eat their toast and eggs while conversing with others. I glance over each of them, feeling as though we’re silently communicating. Those of us who’re here have realized that it’s that special day. They’ve taken the initiative to get up early and enjoy the day, unlike the others. And because they’ve done that, they’re like me.
Maybe I’m just over-thinking everything.
I get a cappuccino and donut and then go through the back door. There’s a little pond several dozen yards away, which is where I’m headed. Once I find a shady tree, I take off my backpack and sit down on the verdant grass. Humming, I pull out my iPod and put on my earphones. Soon epic movie soundtracks are playing.
Then I take out my new book that I just bought the other day and open it to the first page. As I take a drink of my coffee, I pause to relish the moment. Everything feels perfect right now: there’s good music playing, I’m holding a great book, and it’s early morning. Everything feels alive right now. I feel alive.
I love Saturdays.
Less than three,
“Education…gives a man a clear conscious view of his own opinions and judgments, a truth in developing them, an eloquence in expressing them, and a force in urging them.”—The Idea of a University, Discourse VII, John Henry Newman