a_morning_in_the_life_of Soma From nothing, you become you. Eyes blink open. Ears awaken to a small meow coming from the foot of my futon. You're awake. Your brain goes from zero to 60 in mere moments. You feel your mouth spread into a smile. It's morning. The best time. Your favorite time. It's still dark, the lights in your room aren't on yet. You've learned to keep them on a timer since the variation between night and day feels so severe here in the north. It helps. Still warm and cozy, you look from the floor to the window that takes up the majority of the wall to your right. Outside you see that there's just enough lights from the city to determine the silhouette of the spruce trees against the dark blue sky. You find yourself already missing waking up to see the rose and blue dawn. You lay in bed for a while still. It's best not to get up until the alarm goes off, or else the Cat will learn that meowing gets you up. Cat already knows he woke you up anyways, the little fuck. Every few minutes or so, there's a quiet, staccato, meow. You roll over and pet him, happy to hear his purrs. Soon, your first alarm goes off. 5:45am. You stand up in bed, stretching as you rise from the floor. Simultaneously, cat turns up the volume and intensity of his meowing. He's either excited you're awake, or demanding breakfast. Maybe a bit of both. It's like this, every day, even though this routine has been in place for years. It's another hour until the alarm for breakfast goes off. You step forward, off the mattress, and the cat races off the bed into the kitchen. You pull the twisted sheet and duvet off the bed, folding them neatly and setting them aside. You can feel the damp warmth on the mattress of where you were laying. You take my pillows and pile them in their place in the corner of the room, fluffing the ones that have been crushed around you like some strange nest during the night. "I should really get new pillows" you think — that's another routine that's been in place for years. The cat wanders back in and meows. It's a long one this time. You are taking too long, it would appear. You fold the mattress in half so the heat and damp can escape. The cat is sulking, and sits on your newly folded mattress in protest. You decide to pick him up, exclaiming quiety, "Get scooped, nerd!" His protesting meow is only met with the kissing of his fuzzy little head. Still carrying the cat, you walk past the hanging clothes and accompanying dresser, circling around and press through the heavy curtain that is my door, stepping into the kitchen. The kitchen tiles are cold on your feet. That's how you can tell it's fall. You wonder when you should start wearing pants again to bed, already knowing that the answer is well into January while complaining that you're cold. The lights in the kitchen are still off, but it's light enough thanks to the gap of space above the curtain that lets in the light from your room. After all, that bedroom is really just a living room,. You don't have a door, but you do get two giant windows. You think about the finer details of the lighting of the room in the space of the moment it takes to cross in front of the fridge, and plonk the cat onto his upholstered tree. He swats at you playfully as he is freed, irritated to have been carried, before clambering down and trying to trip you on your route the counter to the tea kettle. You fill up the kettle with water. There's a window behind the sink, looking out to the small backyard. The apples you've gathered from down the street are still out on the fence. You wonder when the squirrels will be out to take them. Squirrels. You sigh, considering one in particular that you didn't even name. Gently, you set the thought aside, flipping on the electric kettle to boil water for tea. You're probably going to forget to make the tea, even though you want it. The rest of the morning starts to melt away as memorable. Making breakfast in a shallow pan. Sitting down and eating. Taking your meds. Writing down what you ate and when you ate it in the little notebook. Feeding the cat when the alarm goes off. It's two hours later, as you're sitting at your desk, that you think about replying to an email. You decide to blathe instead. But for that, you'll need tea. Thankfully the water is still warm. You don't forget this time. There's so many things you will forget in life. And so many things you've never known or lived that are memories inside you still. 221010 what's it to you? who go blather from