Waking up from a dream I can only wish that the clouds are clearing out outside. I tried to get out of the bed but as always it took me quite some time to even making it sitting down. Still in bed against the wall, I am still zonked but I can tell that it is still early – feeling the cold concrete on my back. As I rub my eyes to open with an aching head, I had too much of everything last night, I realized that I have not had a cigarette for hours. So I lighted one in celebration.
I closed my eyes several times, wandering off in my thoughts walking here and there, in the shapeless dimensions of my own universe. I did not realize that I have fallen back to sleep. Lately, I have the habit to narcotize myself by sleeping when things are not that amusing. After a while, finally getting up, way too early for breakfast and still in last night’s clothes, I took a look through the misty glass of the window checking on the weather. I stepped outside then sat on the sand, too lazy to do anything just chewing gum while the others are still sleeping as I wait for the sun to bleed beams on me.
Early mornings are still the best. As I watch the waves kissing the shoreline again and again, It was then that I realized while waiting that the now and then are not that different after all. Waiting to be there and to do what is now. While you do the same with me, as you read on to these words, as we take a stroll walking through the corridors of our deepest thoughts during so, we find black and white Polaroid’s moving in slow motion and at times in overly animated shorts, of how things were and are.
We learn to let things be. So we sit and wait for our sunshine. This virtue gives us time more to ourselves. It somehow expands time, supports precision because of longer analogy of variables, and process carefully being observed. Guarantee is not its ally though, but hope is.
Drizzles start to drop, ironically I still have my sunglasses on. Ever hopeful for my sunshine to come, I had no choice but to move by the tree towards the shade. The fruity taste of the gum now starts to fade. Thoughts of what ifs and could have been shoot in. Sometimes even if we are exactly, mathematically at the precise position, things still fall short; the anticipation gets interrupted by some weird chance. But one still believes that these days are all about second chances, so one chooses to wait still.
I found and opened up a note from my left pocket reading it to myself. I could not recognize the handwriting at first but it was mine. I must have written it last night I could not remember. Writing to imitate, one tries to make it my own. Wanting to be original, a conventional fool. The words we find beneath the hums and the pages are the ones we sing for the people we wake up with. To watch the sky unfold from monochrome blend slowly turning into butterscotch gold. Blissfully sedating with hangover, we take a dip down under into the ocean’s arms. Washing away our blue octobers while ceiling us are the bluest horizons lined by white rabbit clouds and giant seahorses. Watching the sunrise never to forget to always remember that there are always good days to look back to. Binding and overwhelming us are the waters and the skies.
We are in between with sands on our feet.
The sensations of turning the tides, the now and then to be one and the same, bending space and time, I have my legs folded against my chest. As the sun finally shows its magnificence, its rays reveal the stains on my plain white, on the sand, never minding, as another day breaks; I am still here waiting, in celebration.