Our mornings begin as they always do; half asleep, I crawl out of bed to begin our day. I meet you at the bottom of the staircase. You’re either in your chair, sleeping the morning away or you’re somewhere else. When it’s the latter, I search frantically around our home, desperate to find you. When you aren’t where you’re supposed to be, I get scared that you’ll end up being the one that ruins our morning routines forever. I dread that day.
When I do find you, I am relieved, if only because we can finally get back to our morning routine. I greet you with a “hello, good morning”. It takes you awhile to warm up to me, to warm up to the realization that we are living yet another day, only to go back to sleep and do it all over again. Years from now, I might think back to whether it was you or I who did the warming…
“Hello, good morning. What do you want for breakfast?”
You say “the usual”, except we never have the usual because the usual costs money and we don’t have any money. We are broke, according to you.
So, I make my usual in the kitchen, alone, while you wait for me in your chair. I am used to our morning routine: me cooking and cleaning, you waiting for me patiently in your chair, sleeping.
When most of the food is absent from your plate, I ask how the usual was. You say the usual: “it was fine. I ate it.” Perhaps, it is only I who actually enjoys it.
Even though our morning routine seems mundane most mornings, and you say the same thing every morning and I say the same thing every morning, I remind myself to treasure these moments with you, because I know one day, life will catch up to you. You won’t be in your chair sleeping the morning away and you won’t be somewhere else in our home.
I will continue to frantically search for you though, trying desperately to find you, every single morning and every single day for the rest of my life