1. Now
Now: September 13th
M y alarm goes off promptly at six a.m. The alarm isn’t a loud or annoying tune like they often use in the movies. Rather, it’s a soft instrumental piece that reminds me of something Snow White might use in her little brown cottage in the woods.
I never hit snooze. I let it sound no more than three notes before I shut the alarm off. I’m out of bed immediately. No point in wasting the day. I quickly use the restroom and come back to make my bed. I never used to be this anal about getting ready in the mornings, but now it’s become one of the better parts of who I am. I need this routine to feel alive. To breathe a little easier. To make it through yet another day.
Next, I quickly rinse off in the shower. I used to be lazy and showered only at night out of necessity. Showering in the morning not only helps wake me up, but it’s a shock to my entire system. It shocks me back to life, and afterward, I feel more alert than ever. It’s why I now prefer lukewarm water over water that turns my skin pink.
After I’ve dried off and dressed for the day, I head into the kitchen to pour myself a steaming cup of coffee. It’s always ready and waiting by the time I’m out of the shower thanks to my dad. He’s an early riser too, but doesn’t get out of bed as quickly as I do every morning. There was a time when the roles were reversed. He’d be gone every morning for work before I’d even made it out of bed. Now, I’m usually the first.
He’s already sitting in his cozy chair by the window, reading the paper while taking slow sips from his coffee mug. Every morning, without change, I can always expect to find him here. It’s both comforting and sad at the same time. I know that he does all of this so that he can keep an eye on me. And while I appreciate his concern, I don’t need it. I’m a grown woman now. I’m not his baby girl anymore, I’m thirty-two. Yes, I can’t say I blame him. I chose to stay when I could have left. Only I can’t leave him. It’s not that simple.
He doesn’t glance over at me as I pour myself a cup. I add a splash of creamer and walk over to the kitchen table to join him. The chair that he’s sitting in used to be in the living room. For the longest time, neither of us could bear to sit in it. It’d been Mom’s favorite chair. After she was gone, it sat empty in the corner of the living room.
Then, one day I decided to become a morning person. I set my alarm and woke up early. I came in here to find the table shoved to the side and Mom’s chair pushed up against the window. He didn’t ask me why I was already up, and I didn’t ask him why her chair was in the kitchen. Sometimes we simply didn’t have answers for why we chose to do some of the things we did after Mom left us. There was a silent understanding between us in that regard.
Some things just were. And that’s how it’s been for the last sixteen years.