morning

If you could leave right now and pick apples all day would you do it? Perhaps it’s the Pennsylvania in me, but I have this overwhelming want for dirt and grass and fireflies and fruit and bugs and water sounds and places to go where there is no man made sound. It all reminds me of youth. When I was a kid dusk used to spook me, it meant there was night to come, night surely meant sleep, sleep surely meant fear, fear meant frustration, forced to lay there till morning waiting for the sleepers to come to. At night the kids were called in one by one as soon as the sun set and the sound of big trucks took a near distant highway with loads they wished to deliver before daybreak. Later that night I would swear to you those same truck sounds were the moaning ghosts of dead kids. I slept with a light on. I bright one. All night long, glaringly bright, keeping the monsters away from me and my goldfish. I loved the getting up in the morning part. Sleep never really was all that settling for me, I wanted to spend all that wasted time making new things and collecting wooly bears in the front yard, pretending they were pets.
If I could be anywhere else other than work right now, I would want to be hiking in search of turtles and on quest for ripe fruit and vegetables for a massive afternoon salad. I would want a good conversation to walk with or maybe a decent book. Morning’s are still the best, they’re like a little secret others might not know about yet. They are untouched, empty pages waiting for scribbles and thumbprints, mistakes and memories, ouches and ahhhs.

7 Comments

  1. I agree – mornings are the best time of the day.

    BTW, we checked all over Long Beach Island this past weekend and couldn’t find Freakgirl only to come on here yesterday and find out she was drinking in Red Bank!

    Reply

  2. Sorry, I won’t be in LBI for a few weeks yet. But thanks for looking. :)

    Reply

  3. But she’ll booze it up there too! WOOP!

    Reply

  4. Hello? It is I. Good. Ok.

    Reply

  5. Now I want to walk along sandy dunes and smell kelp on the breeze and have picnics under chestnut trees.

    That does it. Today come what may, I am flying my kite.

    Reply

  6. i can picture kafk dodging cars trying to fly his kite in the street in brooklyn. screaming at drivers “get on the correct side!” and shit…

    Reply

Leave a Reply