Infinite you

This morning, I woke up, and the first thing I saw through my thicket of eyelashes was the skin on your cheeks — tan, slightly porous, little pricks of hair sticking out. You shaved the day before, but adamantly, they push through your skin and out into the air again. Your skin looked different up front; more real, more flawed, more intimate. It wasn’t at all like the skin I see on your face when I peek at you while you’re driving — there’s no dappled sunlight to wash over everything, adding a natural filter.

I love these quiet moments in the morning, when it’s just me and you in our biome of tousled sheets, the promise of life inhabiting every corner of the bed, as our toes stretch and contract, our lower backs rubbing against each other, trying to recover some semblance of the pliability they had the day before. You and I, a slow-moving forest, a couple fossils waking up from our slumber.

I look at the skin on your shoulders, smooth and brown and darkly freckled against the white sheets, like goose eggs found in the wild. The contrast is almost a shock to my eyes. I look at you, and see the miracle that occurred within your mother’s body for the nine months that she carried you; she made your long limbs and your puckered lips and your earth-colored eyes. In the soft, soundless chamber within your mother, a cell would attach to another, infinitely, to make the promise of you, the you that I saw in my bed today. I think of you, and feel the universe that aligned to bring you into my life — what a world to be alive in, the world that introduced me to you.


Morning: Not for the weak


Morning. It’s not for the weak.

It’s for those who don’t mind the sun’s sting piercing their eyelids — in fact, they relish it.

It’s for those who see the new day as opportunity — to push, conquer, or crow like a rooster.

It’s for those who stretch their hand across the sheets, only to feel it empty — and then feel empty.

Morning. It’s for masochists, opportunists, and ex-lovers.

Photo challenge: Morning

My alarm made me smile

I woke up to magic today. Last night, I took an hour trying to figure out how to customize my alarm on my new phone. It was quite the googling affair at 2 in the morning. But I was determined to wake up to my song of preference in 4 hours. I know—hashtag first world problems.

Anyway, I finally got everything set up, isolated the section of the song that I wanted for my alarm, and finally went to bed.

At 5:55am, I woke up to the sound of Jumper by Third Eye Blind at time stamp 2:22, to an insistent drum beat and one of the most uplifting guitar riffs I’ve ever heard. It just snakes out of the drums, and goes doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, DOO-DOO-DOO, DOO-DOO-DOO-DUH-DOOO… I know, it’s a lame mimicry, but it’s just one of the best guitar riffs out there.

My alarm tone goes exactly from 2:22 to 3:22—a minute of pure bliss. I woke up, but didn’t open my eyes right away. I just stayed in bed an extra minute. I heard those chords, tightly beaded like a rosary, and felt my soul smile.

I’ve been whistling that riff all day.