Morning 18/7/17

This morning, the sight of a blank page was promising.

Ideas came freely, open, into my brain and out of my pen seamlessly. I think I’m better at writing in the morning. More likely, I’m just less awake and therefore incapable of feeling any pressure to be good. A usually overactive mind at this stage has only a few concerns; keep eyes open, yawn, get coffee, write.


The morning began before I wanted it to. My Dad leaves early for work, so at 5:30 am he was already up, clanking around in the kitchen making what sounded like a sandwich for lunch as the draws flew open and slammed shut. I figure he’s late.

My cat has decided it’s a perfect opportunity to sprint around the house for no particular purpose. Usual cat behaviour, but not altogether appreciated at this time of the morning. With all this going on, I should probably just accept my fate, get up and start my day, as the longer I lay here willing myself to go back to sleep, the more frustrated I’ll grow. I roll over, check my phone; 6:00 am. I hear Dad lock the door behind him.

My bed is unbelievably comfortable though. Isn’t it always? I know that if I stretch one leg out from the covers that the cold, biting air that slipped in last night and made itself a home in my room will attack me before I’ve formed a proper defence. But if this is the most profoundly brave thing I’ll have to do today, I’m reminded of how ridiculously easy my life is in any grand game of comparison.

So I get up. Shuffle senselessly down the hall and into the kitchen, cursing myself for not putting on socks. But the promise of caffeine keeps me going and I feebly consider how this is just plain addiction; a depressing thing to get of bed for and yet, so essential. So I make that damn coffee and get on with the business of getting on. I take my first sip while looking out the window and down into the gullies that shield our backyard from the suburban sprawl stretching out into the indefinite, hazy, early morning horizon.

And then, with less conscious effort than was needed 5 minutes ago, I walk back to my room and sit at the top of my bed. After propping myself up on a few cushion, I take out my pen, journal and laptop.

Good morning.


Published by

Kayla Jane

Writer, student and book nerd from Adelaide, South Australia

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