Since moving to the city I have lost the urge to get up in the morning. I no longer have that drive to get up and seize the day and it’s been driving me mad trying to figure out why.
Well, this morning I finally figured it out. I miss the sounds of morning.
I miss waking up to the tiny rays of sun sneaking through my curtains while my cat lays snuggled and purring by my pillow. I miss the rush and bustle of my family preparing for their days, fighting for the shower and knowing I’ll have to rise quickly for a fighting chance myself. I miss all of that, but most of all it’s the birds that I miss.
Each morning they would sing a new song, filling my heart with peace and making the day seem endless with opportunity. As I opened my curtains I would see them in the trees, hopping along the grass and dipping and diving through the air. That’s what morning should sound like.
But it’s not anymore. Laying here now as I write this I hear none of that splendour I just described. Instead I hear the constant drum of traffic, the never ending lull of the hot water heater and the heavy, lonely sound of silence.
The lack of beautiful sounds weighs on me like a sleeping pill and I feel no urge to rise. Instead, I hit the snooze button on my alarm three or four times.
Perhaps this just takes some getting used to or perhaps I never will. But for me the sounds of morning are beautiful and necessary for every day. I don’t understand how people spend their whole lives in the city.
I am here for school and then I’m out. I’ll go somewhere with wildlife, with endless green grass and tall mountains where the birds can sing me all the songs I miss so dearly.