Awake

I am having a hard time becoming cognizant today.  Seriously.  I’m wracking my brain to think of what happened in order to be so groggy today.  Did I stay up too late Sunday night?  No.  Drink an overgenerous amount of wine with dinner?  No.  Have to attend to a child in the middle of the night?  Need to get up mid sleep cycle to use the bathroom?  Have unpleasant dreams?   No.  No.  No.  None of the typical culprits offer rationale for the marshmallow brain and lead body I have as I struggle to become awake today. 

Dictionary.com defines awake.
                verb -
                1.  to wake up; rouse from sleep
                2.  to rouse to action; become active
                3.  to come or bring to an awareness; become cognizant (often followed by to)
                noun -
                1.  waking; not sleeping
                2.  vigilant; alert

My instincts as I strive to come to awareness direct me to investigate my behaviors or previous circumstances to find a mistake on my part or unplanned event because my body wants more rest.  Turns out nothing negative occurred.  Maybe it is not something I have done wrong either.  I could want more sleep because with Friday’s equinox summer is officially over, fall is here, the mornings are dark and this particular Monday is misty gray.  What human body wouldn’t want to stay in bed a little longer at least until some natural light existed?   I am typing in the dark!  The problem may not be something I did specifically but something I have done generally – agreed to a rather unnatural rhythm of daily American work and school week life. 

My family was lucky enough to sleep into daylight over the weekend.  There is something satisfying about waking naturally instead of via alarm, or in the case of my children, via me.  Although I’d like to consider myself a bit gentler than the blare of an alarm, I still am the thing that must rouse my kids from sleep.  I watch their bodies stretch and limbs unfurl, eyes blink and legs kick covers into a heap at the bottom of the bed.  They look at me in disbelief, certain I must be mistaken about the time.  I reassure them I am not.  They wish I was.  Then we roll into action.  Like perfectly trained puppies they potty, dress, eat, pack, depart, arrive. 

Active?  Yes.  Alert?  Maybe not, but on the way to awake following our established routine path of Monday morning.

Awake

Summer’s end morning, still deep dark despite

the glowing timepiece heralding death of night

marking the finish of restless mystic dreaming

warm breath revving ruby blood to offer oxygen

eyes and feet follow a path to the cosmic kitchen

where food offered is taken, eaten, unthought-of

day breaks, snaps into sight a single sleepy face

of what is to be in places yesterday once lived.