Chasing the Sun

E i g h t e e n : Floating

There's something magical about Sunday.

It's the only day powerful enough to erase the other six days of the week into memories.

The only day where stillness in the air symbolizes what's to come instead of what's happened.

Only day the whole world decides to take a deep breath and give life another try.

Another try.              

Life, it's all around me and for the first time in a long time, I'm doing more than holding my head above water.

I'm floating.

I can feel the pieces of my life pulling together like I feel the sunlight streaming through the spaces in my blinds.

A particular bright stream of light finds its home just behind my eyelids but the morning feels too serene to be disturbed by opened eyes.

What the hell, if you can't sleep in on a Sunday, what can you do?

I nudge myself deeper into the mattress and I begin to imagine this is what it means to feel free. To rest without being restless, to enjoy the slow, warm haze of the morning without feeling like I'm running out of time.

Everything is as it should be, not even the occasional honk of a horn or the incessant bark of Mr. Walter's Beagle next door can change that.

I want to hold onto this moment for as long as I can but as my hand glides across the sheet, I find nothing, the warmness she seems to radiate has long turned cold.

Everything is not as it should be.

Far from graceful, I roll to the side and slip out of bed, stretching towards the ceiling before glancing at the clock on my nightstand, 5:45 am.

I know she got into bed after me, how did she manage to be up before me?

Travelling through the apartment, I follow the smell of coffee and the sound of Prince mixed with rustling paper.

It isn't too hard to find the object of my affection.

She's here, at her absolute best, her face illuminated by her own natural glow and her hair a tousled mess held up by a headscarf. She's wearing one of my shirts, an old black tee with a hand-painted picture of Biggie Smalls.

It's been worn a thousand times too many but she makes it look new and tempting, the cotton material falling against her thighs as she sits cross-legged on my frayed carpet.

Her attention is locked on the pages of her notebook but I don't mind, I take full advantage of the fact that she's yet to notice me while all I can do is notice her.

Notice the way her brows draw together as her pencil glides across the sheet, notice the dance in her shoulder as she takes a sip from her mug. Notice the wide grin that pulls at the corners of her rosy cheeks and the slight bang of her head as a guitar riff sounds from her phone's speaker.

This life's worth living if I get to see that smile every day.

"What you doing all the way over there Johnny cakes?" Alice questions, her face still buried in her notebook.

I chuckle at being caught staring but as she looks over at me, her spirited eyes meet mine in a spark that could easily turn to an inferno.

Time slows and in this moment I can guarantee that my soul met hers in a dance as old as time itself.

"I'm looking at the prettiest girl in the whole world." I bite my lip in an attempt not to smile too wide. "What are you doing, baby?"

"I was writing but now I'm waiting on the light of my life to kiss me good morning." Alice sends the most enchanting smile my way as she signals me over with a wave of her hand.