I woke up this morning. That’s it, I just woke up. There needn’t be an adjective or a clarification as to my mood, as to my situation. Waking up is enough. It means whatever eggshells have left cracks in my hands have healed. Looking at my hand is not going to summon back the pain. Or, it shouldn’t. I should be thankful for the chance to crack a new egg. Make a new omelet. And try again. Begin anew, the saying goes. We do that everyday without having to put any effort into it. Our second and third chances have long past and we’re living somewhere on the thousandth chance.
Somedays I wake up early, refreshed and ready to take on the tasks of a young adult. Mild level of responsibilities. Mild daring and reckless abandonment. Mild joy and happiness tinged with awareness that young adulthood provides. Its no longer a scenery painted with cherry blossom pink. No longer la vie on rose. And thats okay. It leaves room for a clearer perspective, a clearer view. My shoes might have dug into my feet yesterday, but today I can wear a different pair, or find a way to make it more comfortable. My hair may have been a hot mess, but with a comb and upper arm muscles, that too will be remedied.