500 Words Per Day – Day 5

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500 words about How I wish I Started My Day (and then why I’m not doing it already)

 

Years ago I read a fluff novel and was so struck by the artistic relationship between the female narrator and her lover ever since I have wanted what she had for myself.

 

I wish I was waking up in a place where the windows make up my walls, letting sunshine kiss my flesh first. Every window would be open letting the breeze make twining lovers of the curtains. I would wake up smiling. My first thought would not be of convincing my body to leave the hallowed cocoon of my bed, but of the warm body next to mine. My fingers would itch to trace and memorize every feature and I would try to be quiet. In sleep we are more magnificent than the secrets of the stars. I would fail. While reaching for my camera and attempting to utilize my skills of stealth (of which I have none) I would wake him. He would frown knowing the camera meant only one thing, an artist at work is not easily swayed from her path. Though this wouldn’t stop him from getting in a few well-placed pokes and yes even some tickling in. My camera must capture the art my eyes need to feast on!

 

Eventually the camera would be wrestled from my grasp and feet would find the hardwood floor, chilled by the evening slumber enough to send goosebumps swimming up our legs. Racing to the kitchen we would grab breakfast in a rush. We would both have the same idea we always have on Friday mornings. Call in late to work, grab our wetsuits, the boards, and head to our spot. Even though everything would be a race between us because competition sings so loudly in our blood, I would bow out and rush back the bedroom to grab my camera and my favorite journal. As always he would tease me relentlessly about taking my ‘crutches’ with me, but knowing they are so much a part of me he could never love me without them.

Arriving at the beach, the secret spot where we had created so many memories already, but the sand and water would never cease to implore us for more, we would ready for the waves. Paddling out, straddling the boards, while intent on watching the waves reach out to touch us, I would break away and look at him. I would bring my board closer and find his hand. In my one gesture I would speak the volumes of my heart to him. He would nod and let a grin take over his entire face. It would be then that I would know the day would make us slaves of the water and work would get another call… “See you Monday.”

 

The biggest reason I’m not (or at this rate didn’t) having this day is because, for one, I’m single. I live in the Midwest and not near the water where my life has been before (I was a mermaid in my past life). For now I have responsibilities that keep me Indiana bound, but not for forever.

 

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