Significance of Sleep

When I wake

Cling. Clang. Ting. Ping. Pang. That's the sound of the dishes kissing in the kitchen. That's the sound of Sunday. The sweet aroma of French toast and coffee seeps its way through the crack underneath my door. It fills up every inch of my room, inviting me to get out bed. While the invitation is warm, my bed is warmer.
When most people wake up, the first thing they do is open their eyes. Eager to see the light that allows them to know they are still alive, they thrive for more. I am not like most  people, I like the way the back of my eyelids look and I would stare into darkness forever if I could. I keep them closed for as long as i can, just long enough to feel lost.
I feel something familiar tracing the outline of my face. Starting from the bottom of my chin, it glides up my jawline, grazing my cheekbone and rolls over my eyebrows. The same entity ends up guiding my hair to  lightly rest behind my ear. I reach a level of consciousness that just moments ago was foreign. The corners of my mouth curl up and I can't help but to be reminded of the love that lays before me. I open my eyes and there he is... Dark Honey blonde hair, lazy smile, blue eyed beauty, Bentley Lewis.
Bentley's eyes may be blue but they are not  just any ordinary blue eyes. They are as blue Maldives water in the Indian Ocean. Which I believe may be the clearest, most pure water here on earth. So clear you can see through to the bottom of the ocean floor, but you can't see through Bentley's eyes. That is why they are so beautiful. You can't see through them and you never know what he's thinking.
Bentley has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. The first distinct memory that I have of him, was when I was 7 years old and he had put gum in my hair on the way home from school. Gum wasn't allowed on the bus but Bentley didn't care. Patrick Cali  aka PJ the baddest boy in the second grade, triple-dog-dared him to do it, so as his best friend, naturally he didn't have to think twice. It was either take the dare or give up his cookies at lunch and we all knew that wasn't going to happen. Bentley's mom made the best chocolate chip cookies, once in awhile she'd bring them in for the whole class. It took my mom three days to get the sticky sweet lump of purple goo out out of my hair, and once she finally had... I kind of missed it. It became a part of me, and so did he.
My reminiscence is interrupted by a smell only I know too well... Bacon. Hot, sizzling greasy fat bacon. My taste buds are tingling and I can no longer ignore the magic that is happening in the kitchen. Bentley and I sit up, our eyes meet, he does his crooked half smile with his lazy lips and darts for the door. We have this thing that whoever makes it to the kitchen first, gets first dibs on the bacon. Although I always end up stealing his off his plate. If only my dad knew how to cook bacon properly then we could simply walk hand in hand, no racing necessary. I look forward to that day.