This morning everything felt normal. It began like any other, with a loud owl hooting outside my window. I knew immediately that this meant I needed to get up and start making coffee if I wanted to get in a chapter of my book before work. I spent my time as I pleased and thought little about the day ahead. I checked a few choice websites and settled in to relax before officially starting my day. It felt good. Like I said, it felt normal. But then, as we all remember, today actually happened and the joys of morning have already become a distant memory.
I think this is happening for a reason. I think time is reseting faster and faster as we become flung out of time and into something new, something liquid and non-linear. I think that something is happening to us and I think we should acknowledge it.
It was as I began to settle in for the day that my phone began to buzz. Message after message began to pour in from friends, family, and some acquaintances I hadn’t heard from in years. They were concerned about my safety, my health. They wanted to know if I was okay. How am I supposed to answer that, when to me the morning felt like any other day? But then I looked outside.
When mornings feel completely different from evenings, is that normal?
From my second story window I could see everything. The locusts swarming, the lightning flashing, the winds raging. It was apocalyptic. It was damning. It was a warning sign. I knew that the times for dilly dallying were at an end. I knew that I had to change my life because there wasn’t much time left. And then the tree branch came through my window.
I’m not sure how your day is going, but if you knew that the morning was the best part, would you try to make the morning last longer or would you just enjoy it?
As I waited for the ambulance to arrive and the blood coming out of my stomach to congeal, I thought about what the next morning would bring. Maybe I could get some Animal Crossing in before my first meeting. Maybe I could finally find some peace in this world. Maybe my head would finally stop spinning.
And then I actually woke up.