I awake.
I face my window. Its worn, wooden frame is slightly ajar to let in the cool
morning air.
I take a deep breath. The dewy air fills my lungs with the scents of pine and
soaked wood.
I turn to my window. I face the sun and feel its gentle glow on my face and body.
The morning dew shimmers like hundreds of eyes shedding tears of joy.
I gently rise and slip out of bed. The soft sheets caress my body, newly reborn
from the womb of my resting place.
My feet softly slip into the thousands of little fibers on my rug. They gently graze
and warm me.
I slowly stretch. I stretch and strain my tight body as it reawakens like an ancient
scroll being unrolled and seeing the sun after centuries.
I walk to the bathroom. I step out of my room into a silent home filled with the
light of a sun only a select few see. I feel as though I am a being not of this earth.
I step into the bathroom. The cold stone floor is almost startling to my newborn
senses.
I shower. The scents of lavender and citruses fill my nostrils as hot water hits my
body like harsh gusts of wind on an empty plain.
I dry. I drag a soft towel over my skin. It smells sweet, and feels like a soft cotton
candy that could melt into pools of sugar at any moment.
I change. I put on a worn in shirt. I feel its softness and its age as it sheathes my
torso.
I slip on my raw denim. It’s fabric is faded and old, but soft and malleable. Its
age carries beauty and history like nothing else.
My raw denim has seen more than I will in the rest of my life. Like a sun one sees
every day, it’s only when one ponders the existence of such things, things that
were here before us and might one day outlast us.
Things that have been tools of individuals before us and now serve our needs as
human beings.
Only when we ponder the things that we use every day do we realize their value.
When we ponder the existence of an eternal being like the sun, or the age and
wear of an old pair of raw denim, do we see the beauty in the mundane.
I weep.