Writing the Self One; Streetlights and SportsCenter

I stretch awake on my own this morning, wondering what time it is. Like usual for winter mornings, the sky is still dark. The streetlight on the corner shines through the slits of my blinds into my bedroom. I can hear cars warming up for their morning commute. I listen to hear for the sound of my mom’s hairdryer, wondering if she has left for work yet. I peer outside and see her car is gone. The light from the hallway spills into my room, where my door is open, just a crack. I pull my pink and green patterned blankets up to my chin and try to regain the warmth from them. I feel around for my stuffed animal lovingly named “special puppy.” The town is quiet as ever this morning, and I hear the crunching of snow on the street as the neighbours leave for work.

I hear my dad in the kitchen, getting ready for his day. He coughs loudly, waking up the shop dust that resides in his lungs. I wonder how much time I have left to snooze before he wakes me up for the day. I move to the other side of my bed, trying to regain the comfort I seemed to have lost when I looked out the window. From my bedroom, I hear the sink turn on as my dad fills the coffee pot with water to fill the tank. Drawers open and close as he finds filters, the coffee grounds, a spoon, and a mug. I hear the coffee pot begin to perk, and slowly start to smell the earthy brew as it wafts through the house.

Dad must be making himself breakfast now, I think to myself. I can hear him opening more cupboards and wrestling with the bread clip. I hear my dad push the toast into the toaster. Moments later, the coffee smell is joined by the smell of burning toast. More cupboards open, and I hear him grab a plate and a butter knife. The toaster pops as if on cue, and I soon hear the scraping of the butterknife spreading peanut butter. The house smells like morning, I think to myself. I wonder how Bailey doesn’t wake up in all this commotion, dad is like a tornado in the kitchen. I hear the coffee pot stop brewing and hear dad grab a mug and pour in his coffee.

I look around my messy room, giving up on the notion of falling back asleep. I know as soon as dad is done his breakfast, he will wake my sister and me up for the day. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I look to the clock, trying to make out what time it is. The TV blasts on in the Livingroom still left at max volume from last night’s viewing. The TV doesn’t get too much quieter, dad always has the volume at an unreasonable level. I hear the SportsCenter intro song blare, and the hockey highlights begin to play. The words the announcers say almost sound unintelligible, but the theme song between clips is recognizable enough. I savour every moment of relaxation in bed that I can. Closing my eyes, I listen to the TV and enjoy my peaceful morning.

I hear the TV turn off and my dad’s footsteps as he walks down the hall. Bailey’s door creaks open, and I hear my dad wake her up for the day. Slowly my door opens, and the hallway light fully spills in. Bailey rushes to my bed to wake me for the day. I watch her struggle to climb up onto my bed, and my dad lifts her. She is overjoyed by this opportunity to wrestle and disrupt my peaceful morning.