The Wee Small Hours in the Morning

The cool air waltzed through the window in my bedroom. Save for the occasional grumble of a semi truck leaving the lot down the street, the world was still in slumber. The bedsheets clung to my body, curling around one of my legs while the other hung lazily over the side. The childish fear of monsters under the bed prickles at my skin, a layer of goosebumps covers my entire body before I pull my leg back under the blanket. The heat from the blanket is pooling in the ripples, I fan my legs out to try and flatten it.

I can feel my cats jumping on and off the bed, waiting impatiently to be fed. Sometimes they come up and sniff at my face, willing me to get up in the only way they know how. They will leave, pace around the house for a few minutes before returning to sniff my face again. I pull the blanket over my face to shield me. It is not time yet.

I am convinced that if I just keep my eyes closed, I can actually transport myself to my childhood bedroom on a summer morning. The sun has not quite risen, but the light of day has started to creep through the windows. I pretend it is from the small holes in the broken blinds that used to be my wake up call. As the birds begin their morning chatter, I visualize the dust kicking up behind the cars going too fast on our little dirt road. I can hear the swoosh of the leaves as the trees shake off their slumber, stretching out their branches proud and tall.

There are posters on my teal walls, boy bands and tumblr photos that ‘just spoke to me’. The old and bulky desk is in the corner beside all the bibs from my cross country and track meets. The fold out mirror is covered in stickers, and my makeup brushes are neatly tucked in their spinning organizer. Beside my bed is a small white cube shelf from Walmart. My journals and pens lay haphazardly in the closest nook to my bed. A copy of Tender is the Night is laying on the top beside my phone from reading it last night. Page 113 dog eared because I didn’t quite believe in bookmarks yet. The house lets out an occasional sigh, I think it funny that me and this house are the same age and yet it feels so much older than I.

I roll over, my bed is now a twin mattress with springs that have molded to my body throughout the years. My comforter is crumpled at the foot of my bed. The thin white sheet over my body is reminiscent of marble statues, although my body does not have the curves of an adult quite yet it still makes me feel beautiful. I soak it all in, I will want to remember this one day, I think to myself. I will want to remember this feeling, I tell myself again. A bee has begun to buzz by my window, and the birds have fully warmed up. Their songs are louder now, the light sneaking through the window has gotten both brighter and softer. Hues of pink and blue signal the start of a new day. There is a fan going in the window. I think I will make scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. My older sister is at a friend's house, my younger sister will stay asleep until almost noon.

The air is slowly warming up, humidity making its appearance. I don’t have any responsibilities, other than summer reading. I know I will sit outside and read. When it gets too hot and sweat stings at my eyes I will jump in the pool. My childhood dogs will be there, basking in the sun, begging for one of us to bring them in the water too. Then they will shake, creating a tiny rainstorm around them that smells like wet dogs but that smells like love to me. I will check myself for tan lines, I will go for a run somewhere shady, I will sit on the front porch swing and watch the dogs lolling around the front yard. The neighborhood kids will fly past on their bicycles, and time will go so slow. The weight of adulthood has not reached me yet, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would even be like. Surely this is how life will feel when I’m older, just more fun because I can do whatever I want.

The light is getting brighter now. The sun will soon rise high, rubbing away at the blush in the sky until it settles on a thick blue. The world is waking up, slowly then all at once. Soon the birds will quiet while they travel. Cars are already bustling about, honking, grumbling, sputtering. The neighborhood kids will soon be outside ringing their bicycle bells. I roll over once more, my back is molded to the memory foam of my full size bed. Whiskers tickle at my face, this time I open my eyes. Four big round eyes stare back at me. They shift, and then shift again, desperate to convey their need for breakfast. I look at the clock, there are four minutes until six a.m.. The walls are grey now, and there are no posters. The lightness of youth has long since left my bones, replaced with an ever present ache. Nostalgia, I tell myself.

I was right all those years ago though. I would want to remember that one day. I would crave it in a way the younger version of me could never understand. But maybe, just maybe she could feel it, feel me now, scratching desperately to get back. And just for a moment, she soaked it in a little bit more, knowing I would need it. Okay, it’s time to get ready for work, I tell myself. I sit up, my body feels heavy. “Let’s get you boys some food”.