Sunrise Stories.

Sometimes I wake up too early, and it would hurt to wake you up with me. I’m quite tempted though, to let my smile force me towards the open windows, to see how the world would greet me that day. A gushing stream of rapture also tempts me to wake you up gently, through some melodies of loving dreams and lyrics of passionate goals. My mind visualises how beautiful it would be to caress your cheek as you lay next to me, allowing your beautiful eyes to open gracefully, letting the light in.

But, I let you sleep. I know you spend the night listening to the noise of your thoughts; they are somehow like nightly waves constantly embracing the boulders near the shore, splashing and retreating, always coming back once more. I know you need those little moments to rest, to watch the dark canvass in your mind entwine with snippets of dreams left far behind in your subconscious— snippets that you don’t consider that much.

So I lay next to you with a smile, watching that wandering beam of light touch the walls around us. Joy trills down my spine and makes me fidget in my place, and I smile fearlessly, feeling so expectant and hopeful, so ready to embrace the new day with a glimmer of love and fierce determination. I look at you, soundly sleeping, your eyelids fluttering with the vibrancy of the stars in the constellations of your beauty. My lips part to a grin and so intuitively, I whisper you a good morning. I just can’t help it.

Your eyes slowly open, the peachy young sunshine reflected in your irises. The first thing you see is the open window, a northern summer breeze blowing through it. The room smells like simmering golden light, not so fresh like it was in spring. You inhale it softly and wonder whether it makes any sense.

Sometimes you don’t believe it makes any sense.

You turn your head and look at me, smiling gratefully. I can’t help but chuckle at how beautiful this moment is, and you shake your head. I want to apologise for waking you up, but you know that it is a mistake I’ll never stop making. I know how important it is to rest, dearest, but isn’t this an enchanting way to ease our minds?

And as I’m gazing at you, I realise how flawed I might look— with tousled morning hair, pillow creases printed on my face and distorted eyes. I look down, feeling insecure of having you looking at me and I want to utter a torrent of words emphasising it, but then you laugh and I follow you.

How beautiful it is to follow you so instinctively! And suddenly, I get this feeling that I want to dance, so I drag you out of bed and start twirling around the room quite crazily. I’m insecure, but I’m also free, and the emotions trapped in our hearts are the melodies that reign our feet.

The light soon floods the room and it’s time to go, to give love to the world, to get disappointed and challenged, to feel confused and disoriented. But there is always a morning to feel loved and alive again.

We are not the richest and highest achievers in the world but we love, and we are loved.