Learn to Love

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                                     Starling
For as long as the world has been spinning on its axis, the sun has set at a different time every evening. It has risen at a different time every morning.

We live our lives around the sun, making accommodations for the darkness and light it brings us.

I live my life in routines, and although the setting of the sun is never at a constant time, there is one thing that I can always count on. The sun sets. The sun rises. Always.

My schedule revolves around the rising of the sun, just like everyone else.

     Today the sun rises at 6:04 in the morning; I wake up thirty minutes earlier, at 5:34.

      The thirty minutes is important to me, it gives me just enough time to get ready. Ten minutes to do my morning bathroom routine, ten minutes to get dressed, and ten minutes to make sure my bag is packed correctly for school.

      When my alarm goes off, I sit up immediately. It's a loud, long blare, like that of an air horn, the only thing that can wake me up on the first try.

     I grab my phone and tiredly swipe to the left to dismiss the alarm before Robin yells at me again for "disturbing her beauty sleep."

      The hardwood floor is cool to the touch as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed to stand. I take a second to get used to the cold before getting up and turning the light on.

      Thirteen steps to the light switch.
      Eight steps to the bathroom.

      Mom says I look just like Dad. I think she's crazy, looking into the mirror, I just don't see it.

      Dad has a skinny, shapely face, with a pointed chin. He has exactly twelve forehead wrinkles, I once spent the whole day counting them. And his eyes, they're a cold hard brown. At least they are whenever he looks at me.

My face, it's round, with distinct dimples in both of my cheeks, which are always red no matter my mood. Unlike his bald head, I have thick and unruly brown hair. My forehead is surprisingly smooth, sometimes I think Dad is jealous. And my eyes are light green, like a four leaf clover.

      I forgive mom for making such a crazy accusation seeing as how she only comes home every couple of months. She probably forgets what I look like most of the time.

      Taking one last glance in the mirror, I continue my routine, noting that my toothpaste is almost out.

      "Hey, move it or lose it."
My sister Robin is normal. By my definition anyway. She plays soccer, which keeps her fit and tan, and it's one of the reasons she's almost always shirtless. She pushes past me into the bathroom wearing nothing but pajama shorts and a bright pink sports bra.

She looks like mom, strawberry blond hair that's straight as a board, baby blue eyes that are almost always rolling back into her head, and a perfect smile that I rarely ever see.

"It's my bathroom time." I mumble annoyed, as I make room for her at the sink. I smack my lips together three times to calm myself down.

"I have to get to school early today," she says, suppressing a yawn, "we're starting conditioning."

"Oh right. Right. I remember now."
"Anyways, I can drive you to school but we have to leave at six."
I shake my head, "I'll just walk."
She shrugs, replying to me with a mouthful of toothpaste, "Suit yourself."