Sweat trickled down my spine as I slowly awakened, the remnants of sleep clinging to my eyelids.
I reached for my cellphone, the little device that often dictated my mornings, and squinted at the screen.
Oh goodness!
It's 9:20 AM!
Shucks!
Should I still attempt to go to church?
Why didn't my alarm do its job?
As I tried to lift myself from the embrace of my warm blankets, the familiar battle raged in my mind: to go or not to go?
Ultimately, the decision was always the same-going in late felt too embarrassing.
So, what now?
With a reluctant sigh, I sunk back into the soft cocoon of my bed, closing my eyes in hopes of returning to the sweet oblivion of sleep.
But just as I began to drift away, the shrill ring of my cellphone jolted me back.
I fumbled for it, still half-asleep, not bothering to open my eyes.
It must be my brother, I thought.
I swiped the screen and mumbled,
"Hello?" My voice was hoarse, a reflection of my sleepy state.
"Dude? Are you going to church or what? We've been waiting for you!" his voice crackled through the line, cutting through my haze.
"Ah, sorry, sorry," I stammered, feeling a pang of guilt.
"No, dude. I just woke up. You guys should go; don't let me hold you up." I hung up, feeling a twinge of regret as I set my phone aside.
I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the white ceiling above, a canvas of endless possibilities.
Did I really sleep through my alarm, or did my body simply yearn for a few more minutes of peace?
Perhaps it was a bit of both.
My stomach growled in protest, reminding me that I was indeed awake and in need of sustenance.
Suddenly, an idea flickered in my mind like a candle flame.
Ah, I know!
I'm going to paint!
It would be a shame to let my art supplies languish in silence.
With that decision, I banished the boredom that threatened to creep in, ready to transform my day into a vibrant splash of color, all while embracing the solitude of my boarding house.
I sprang out of bed, hurriedly straightening the blankets and sheets.
After folding my bed, I darted to our small table, eager to check for rice.
My smile widened as I discovered a generous serving waiting for me.
I glanced at the brown Tupperware perched on the side, curiosity bubbling inside me.
Oh, how thoughtful Ate N is!
She even packed a delicious side dish for me.
My heart melted at her kindness as I quickly grabbed a plate and spoon.
Once I dished up my meal, I dove in with savoring each bite and unable to suppress my grin.
I felt like a child tasting food for the first time.
After polishing off my breakfast, I washed the dishes and took a moment to contemplate whether I should paint today.
Honestly, I'm not really a fan of painting or drawing; I don't consider myself particularly talented in that area.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
