Wake Up, Girl

Wake up, girl. Breathe in and out, in and out. Allow the golden beginnings of dawn seep in upon your eyelids, as your hopes and fears rush in like the flock of birds outside your window. Trace the design on your quilt with your little finger until your alarm goes off. Bury your face into your cotton pillow as you savor the warmth and security of the makeshift sheet cocoon you’re tangled in, before you can’t fight the impulse to continue dreaming any longer. Swing your heavy legs out of the bed, planting your bare feet firmly against the cold wood floor.

You must get out of bed; no hiding today, child. There is much waiting for your attention. Splash lukewarm water upon your squinting eyes, throw your day old wavy hair up. Slip into your favorite summer dress, the one he disliked. Do it not out of spite, but because you have always loved it. Reach for the long necklace that reminds you of Carroll's Wonderland, before you pull your leg warmers on and buckle your boots. Let the tea seep into your bones and welcome the nippy morning air against your cheeks.

Show up, be present, make observations, take down notes, voice your opinion. When the bakery has chocolate cookies with sea salt, know wholeheartedly that they have been made for you and that you must buy one. Share it. Move quickly through the words of Herman Melville, but store them in your heart so that you can savor them later. Sit up straight, even when you’ve been in front of your computer for hours. Be thankful, even though the approaching waves of change has left you feeling raw on the edges. Breathe in and out, in and out. Find your diaphragm even though the weight of this term has you feeling trapped and tender in your ribs.

© 2011 by Rachel Lowry. All rights Reserved. Post inspired by and adapted from {her girl self}.