My Monday morning must have all the happiness that the universe sucked out of everyone else’s.
I’m plopped down in my usual spot in between sofa cushions, in a night dress and tie-dye sweatshirt, desperately trying not to itch my bug bites.
Where can I even start? Why does everything feel perfect? I mean in reality, yea I read the article for Literature this morning so that was a nice change and I’ll actually be prepared for class, but I have a paper due and a million finals to study for, and still I’m sitting here twirling my curls and smiling at my computer screen, sending emojis of soup to my sick boyfriend.
And I had a great night with my family and sisters last night, as we went to my oldest sister, Ana’s, apartment for Mothers Day. We drank beer and ate homemade pizza, laughed about restaurants in Vegas that promote obesity and dreamed of Ana’s wedding next winter. Mom asked Clari when she was going to get married… she’s 21. She’s too much. We all cuddled up around a tiny chest that had been transformed into a coffee table for the occasion and passed the night while the lightening cracked in between the buildings outside.
It’s still overcast today, potentially rainy, as I should have expected considering I recently decided to wash my rain jacket. I’m daydreaming.. which I guess is typical when I end up confined because of the weather.
Daydreaming about what to do today, about the future, about whether or not to shower. I’m coming to the conclusion that I’m just really excited about my life. I feel like it’s finally starting. Maybe this is spurred by electing next semesters classes, and planning my next trip. Everything is just right around the corner. As much as I can’t wait for it all to start, and I know I’ve said it before, I’d freeze these moments forever if I could: laughing over store bought “facturas” to jokes I only partially understand during family time on Sunday Nights; harassing the siblings I never had (even if it means being hit with raw hotdogs); walking to the bus stop, commanding the city, like it’s mine and I’ve been here forever; laying in bed, intertwined on a rainy day, matching up our breathing, and trying not to break the perfection of the moment. I could go on and on…
Did I just get lucky? Because I know everyone isn’t where I am now, and not physically, but mentally, so in love with life. Perhaps its just finally my turn…
Being the analyst I am, I ask myself, what spurred this? (most likely so I can read this in six months and do my very best to get these feelings back) Is it the phenomenon of independence? Of something totally foreign: something that could potentially shatter all the things you thought you knew about life and what you wanted from it?
Or was it just time? Time to fall in love again, time to feel part of something, time for a change.
So as much as you might be hating your Monday morning, think about the potential, your potential, because if you ask me, this sensation is damn contagious.