Morning has broken

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

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Written for a writing group as a kind of challenge.

A normal day in the life of an old lady who has her very own view on life and the reason why she doesn't like dogs anymore.

On this particular morning, I awoke very early and when I looked out of the window, I saw the sun rise behind the hills on the horizon. I took the time to see the sun awake in all her glory and watch her painting beautiful patterns of light and shadow onto the wall behind me. The dust danced in the morning light and reminded me that I had to hoover that room again soon. With my thoughts changing from admiring the sunrise to more unpleasant topics, I finally got up and stretched. It was time for breakfast. Ah, a lovely cup of tea! Simple things like that can make every day a better one.

The garden looked so inviting that I left the house munching my bun, just to see the brass pot, the bird feeder and the hole in the wall. After stumbling over the first one, I decided to finally chuck the pot in the green wheelie bin, fill the bird feeder and hang it into the tree even though the season of feeding birds was actually over, and fill the hole in the wall. Or at least to think about a way to do it. In the end, the brass pot was standing on the wall that was halfway to the wheelie bins, the bird feeder lay on the kitchen table and the hole remained holey. I heard a noise and looked around. Did my dog just talk?

I focussed him. Hm… rather unlikely, first because he was a dog, second because he was made out of china. I still know how I got him. It was one of my favourite presents for my fifteenth birthday. When I was younger, I used to be obsessed with dogs. I had dog bedding, dog slippers, a rug with dogs next to my bed and thousands of cute toy dogs. Now, all that’s left from that time is that grinning china beagle that lost its tail because it once fell off the shelf. Great times… now I’m old, have got an achy knee and lost colour like the china dog. I used to call him Poggs, I can’t recall when he became the ’china beagle’.

I looked around the garden. So much stuff to do but I didn’t feel like it. As it was so beautiful outside, I went for a long walk. I wondered up the hill and looked down expecting to see the light in the valley. Unfortunately, the mist on the common was thick this day and so I couldn’t see anything down there. The clouds swallowed all the sunlight and I realised how cold it really was. It felt a bit like that very hard winter when the stream froze and all the children went sliding down on the ice. I was one of them… a jolly good fun. No one worried that we might get ice cold feet or break our bones by falling down. Children don’t do that nowadays. Well, because of the bloody climate change the stream doesn’t freeze anymore but even in summer… just going outside into the woods, disappearing the whole day with your friends and being back for dinner… They seem to have their parents with them everywhere all the time. If they are out of sight, the adults start worrying that they could have been stolen by some crazy man… all that health and safety drives the people insane. As if they hadn’t got enough stuff to worry about. When I was young, life used to be easier. Well, was it? Probably not.

I turned my face to the sun and closed my eyes. Suddenly I felt something bumping into me and, because I hadn’t been prepared for that, it made me fall backwards on my butt. I looked at the big, hairy Golden Retriever who’d obviously escaped his owners and now looked at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like: “Want to stroke me?”

I got up and shooed him away. That was the reason I lost my love for dogs. They are stupid, naïve pets that are dependent and completely helpless without a human looking after them. Obsessed with getting your attention, they follow you everywhere, annoy you all the time and run around you until you topple over.

I had lost the good mood that I’d had this morning and turned around to go back home. It was nice and dry inside, I lit the log burner and made myself comfortable on the sofa. There was a TV pilot on itv and I watched it even though I didn’t find it very interesting. Something about some drunk insurance investigator who went off with some thieves to steal somebody’s airplane designs. Boring and the worst thing about it was the American accent. At least one of them seemed to be British. I got out my knitting and continued on my orange piece. It made me think of Granny’s woolly scarves. She had an awful lot of them and always used to wear one. The others were lying around everywhere in her house spreading the damp smell of mothballs in the whole flat. Good old times… when I used to visit her as a child she always baked a cake and knitted a scarf for me… Itchy, rough wool, it was horrible but I wore them for her. It made her happy. She’s been dead for how many years, now? Can’t remember. Time flies. The years have gone by and left no real trace behind. Everything’s changing fast and faster but in the end it all stays the same. In the end, it all goes back to nothing. Like the day. Sunrise – morning – afternoon – sunset – night. Everyday again and no one will ever change that.

 

 


Submitted: August 24, 2017

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