Mornings

by Mika Altidor

The worst thing about mornings is other people
When you were in High School you loved to wake up at 5-5:30
No one else around
No mother loudly making coffee and boring conversation
No siblings flagrantly stealing the lemon San Peligrinos that you bought with your own money and put 3 separate sticky notes on specifically stating that they were yours and that anyone who took one you would kill
Quiet
The sun rising
Slowly getting ready for the day
Leaving for the 7:30 bus at 7:05 to avoid any potential interactions with your loved ones
The worst part about mornings is other people
As an adult, barely, it’s not necessarily your family that fuck with your mornings
It’s the other people
The man whose ripped pants reveal the color of his boxers matching the color of his raincoat
The toddler with an iPhone refusing to let his mother turn the volume down on the video he’s watching
The man whose ripped pants reveal unfortunately his entire scrotum as he stands up desperately trying to cover himself hoping no one saw anything
The man walking off the number 4 bus at 9:02am on a Tuesday
Making brief eye contact as you wait to get on
He’s holding one arm up with the other
His hand is frostbitten
Fingers completely black, rigid, skeleton
The stop he’s getting off at is a residential neighborhood by a university, not a hospital
He looks away from you
He looks scared
Worse than that he looks your age
The worst thing about mornings is other people
And the fact you can’t change them
You can’t force a stranger to seek medical intervention or a tailor anymore than you can stop a sibling from stealing your food
At the very least though, you see these people again
You see your mom in the pajama dress you bought for her at the Portland Jetport in 2010
You see your siblings bicker and yell and eat breakfast together
You see men wearing appropriately unripped pants
Toddlers with headphones
And you see a man two weeks later walking off the number 4 bus at 8:58am on a Wednesday
He makes eye contact with you
His hand is professionally bandaged, fingers amputated
He looks at you and gives a polite half smile and nod as he steps off
He looks tired
Better than that he looks alive