Sunrise Stories.

Sometimes, deep into the night, I hear the door opening. I hear muffled footsteps and keychains placed on the table and I know it’s you. I know because I can sense tiredness and questions contained in your chest, waiting to be gracefully said, instead of being twisted and turned over and over again in deafening silence.

I hear your rough breaths coming nearer and my eyes slowly open. The bed is cold and you’re needing warmth, perhaps not the kind I could ever give to you, because dearest, you’re tired. We’re both tired.

We didn’t know that making a living would be this hard, bringing us down with constant challenges and sacrifices to be made. We still have a home to build and a family to cater for and some nights, like today, the weight of it all falls heavily on our shoulders and we want to give it a rest. We know that what we’re working hard for is valuable and beautiful but, we just cannot think that way today. If it were that beautiful, then why do we seem to be fighting for it?

You sigh, and it’s a rare thing for you to do. You do not often express dissatisfaction so openly, so physically. Your smile is always there, gracefully adorning the beauty of your face. There is always softness in your voice, even when times are hard, you tend to finish off your thoughts with a silent gesture, evoking a patient hope and it conquers almost everything.

But tonight, you’re not really yourself, dearest one, and it pains me considerably. It’s because part of me exists to see you become a better, more beautiful person and so it is quite burdening to see you turning backwards. Eyes open and lips apart, I try to manage and utter a consolidation but, I do not. I remain silent, like I do when I’m tired. I keep it all inside, my heart twisting and turning in agony and frustration, the idealist in me striving for perfection.

What could I say, after all? Those inscrutable words falter in such weary times. I breathe deeply, somehow sighing too, knowing that you hear me and even sense the sadness painting my inner canvass so darkly that it’s hard to see a bend in this long long road.

And though you’ve been lying on your back, staring up at the ceiling, you turn away almost abruptly. It shatters me all together and I want to do something. I want to make it alright again.

I have to.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes, forcing a weak smile to take shape on my lips. I come closer to you, my hands reaching out for yours, their warmth my ultimate compass. And as my fingers find yours, I slowly allow them to entwine, and you let them. You hold my hand and clutch it tightly and dearest, I understand. I want to tell you that I do, but this silence is ever enough and more than I could ask for.

Our touch speaks a million languages all at once. It speaks of our faith— it speaks that abundance lies within our gratitude and thoughtful remembrance to the blessings and beauty surrounding us. It’s not the money we are saving and not the richness in our wealth— it’s the ideals in our dreams and the satisfaction we seek from the simple glories of the universe. All else follows. All else is secondary.

Our touch progresses to a wonderful revelation, and I can sense your muscles easing their prevalent tension. I can feel the warmth oozing out of your skin and your face lightening up with an unfathomable joy. I hold you close, with all my might, telling you that it will be okay, that we are blessed, that we are faithful and loyal to our heartfelt missions on this world.

And this moment is more like a deep sleep to our minds, leaving us rejuvenated and grounded. The lapsing minutes roll around till we hear the first birds of the day, their melodies echoing, bouncing off the masses of stars and celestial bodies. We know that even though we were supposed to abruptly wake and head to work, it would be better to rest today. We need it. We’ve been working so hard, dearest. It’s okay to leave it all behind today.

And with this thought, we sleep in, our morning spent in care and utmost love; a lesson to truly harness our potentials and letting them thrive instead of wane and fade. And even though the first beams of light touch the walls of the room, we decide to allow the darkness in our sleep be the light that comforts us this time.

We will make it very soon, my dear. I know we will. Never mind the light of the day, there will soon come another morning we can head out to with a smile.

Let’s renew ourselves today.