GETTING IT TOGETHER
by Nina Ondine
 Lately i’ve been waking up early, so i say to myself, “might as well exercise.” But i look out the window and it’s still dark. I hear the delivery boy on his scooter, stuffing the junk mail into our mailbox. Sneaky.
My husband stirs… “Keep sleeping it’s still early.”
I get out of bed and pull on some Lycra. I’m not doing this to be good. It’s just that I can’t sleep — a form of insomnia, the doctor said. Well, exercise is supposed to help, isn’t it? I drag myself into the kitchen. The full moon shines through the French windows, bright as a freshly washed plate. I step into the pool of silver light on the linoleum and boil some water.
“It’s nice to get up early.” I try to get excited about all the things I have time for before heading off to work. But as I run through the list of things to do, suddenly i feel exhausted. “If only i could get back to sleep…”
While a teabag seeps inside the steaming water, i pull on a fleecy top and some socks.
I’m standing at the window now, staring into the first light. Most of the buildings in the neighborhood are still dark. I spy the lit flats to see what the neighbors are doing. There’s something infinitely comforting about a lit room in the night —something about warmth and the promise of comfort.
The day breaks. I clutch my cup of tea and sit at the table, watching the new light erase the night. “Looks cold out there…”
I sip my drink while I distractedly leaf through yesterday’s paper, which I hadn’t had time to read. An hour has passed since i awoke.
The color of this embryonic day is gray. I open the window and listen to the faint morning traffic. Even the smell of this day is gray, like wet leaves. I tie the laces of my running shoes in double knots so they wont come undone, then I run down the flight of stairs and head off to the park.
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