“How Lucky Am I” by: Rokisha Brown

I open my eyes to the walls of my bedroom bathed in the peachy tones of early morning sunlight. This early, everything is quiet and sealed with a profound stillness. A calmness settles in my chest with each breath expanding from my fingertips and down to my toes.

With certainty, I know that the time on my alarm will read 6:45 a.m. Five minutes from now, there will be the soft pattering of my mother’s feet as she makes her way past my bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. Three minutes later, a shuffle of heavy feet will follow in the same direction. At seven, my alarm will go off. I’ll head to my bathroom and brush my teeth.

By the time I enter the kitchen, there will be a glass of water waiting on the island for me, and my parents will start preparing breakfast. As per usual, pancakes, eggs, and bacon. My father will mumble “good morning” from the other side of the fridge door, and my mother will greet me with a smile over her shoulder as she fills my father’s coffee mug. I’ll take my glass of water to the living room with a small pink leather book tucked underneath my arm. It’s one of those with daily articles on gratitude and mindful happiness, a gift from my mother.

I’ll finish today’s reading around the same time my parents prepare breakfast, and I’ll start setting the table. They’ll bring out the food. We’ll eat, laugh, and talk about everything and nothing. My dad will comment on the weather, and mom will inquire about my online coursework. We’ll do the dishes together as we always do, and perhaps later sit on the couch and enjoy a tv program as a family. The program will most likely be a trending movie about a virus that affects the population. Fitting, to say the least. I’ll sit while watching the screen without actually seeing. There, but not present. These weeks have made me numb to our daily routine.

But my alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Until then, I’ll lie in bed basking in the soft hues of the sunrise. I’ll watch the gentle sway of the cherry blossoms outside my window until the dulcet chimes of my alarm coaches me from my bed and to my bathroom, from there to the stairs with the pink leather cover of “How Lucky Am I” tucked beneath an arm.