8:53 a.m. My eyes open as I awake from the restful slumber and memories of the past day are unaware to me for a few moments before its events rush back to my mind.  I then realize where I am and what day it is.  While my brain wakes and I become aware of everything, I burrow down deeper under the thick, inviting sheets and sink into the memory foam pad as the sun peeks through the blinds.  Fuzzy blankets coil around my legs and wish me to stay, to not leave its comforting embrace.  Yet, as resisting as it is, I let my naked feet fall to the chilled wooden floor, and the morning breeze from the open window hits my legs.

The chilly, goose bump-causing breeze drafts across my face as the smells of morning due plenty my nose and the heaven sent, golden sunrise held up by the tops of the trees just across the field awaken my droopy eyes.  A faded moon still yearns to be seen as the red sun begins to overcome the night.  The sky is now a glowing fire at the horizon, which fades into a calm yellow that interrupts the painted light-blue sky.  Birds begin to sing loud in contrast to their negligible lungs as they dive from the tree limbs like a falling stone off of a cliff, or they sit on the black electrical wire that droops between the tall, wooden posts.   Smells of freshly cut grass and clean dirt fill the air, and flowers are opening as if a lady stretching her limbs in the morning. 

The road is clear; no car in sight, and the world seems to be resting still or just awakening. Sitting on the wooden chair my mind becomes alive, thinking of all the what-if’s and why-not’s. Thinking about the day to come and what I will confront. Thinking of the present, the now.  The morning has come, and so my day begins.