Morning Run

I was woken up at 6 when uncle and auntie hurried up and down stairs getting ready for work. I stayed in bed, eyes closed, thinking what a wonderful day I had yesterday, and planning things to do today.

When I finally opened my eyes, it was already 7. Yesterday I made a weekly schedule, deciding to run in the morning instead of afternoon to avoid some ultraviolet—last summer JJ refused to recognize me as her sister in public because I looked like just getting out of Africa.

Putting up my newly bought a running suit and getting into the morning air, I felt glad I had come out. The flowering tree in front of the house looked pinkly fresh and sweet. It was unusually hot yesterday. We got a drizzle here last night, and this morning was mildly sunny and fresh. My shoulders could feel the breeze. I thought I should look good in the new Nike, which made me feel even better.

I ran along the walkway in the neighborhood. It was quiet. I saw a lady standing at the cross, probably a volunteer for community children watch in the morning. She waved at me across the road and waved again when I turned back minutes later.

I am sure I won’t have the luxury of enjoying such sluggish mornings soon. I once thought I had been wasting the most precious part of my life without being able to study or work. It took a while for me to finally compromise with the reality. I developed the philosophy to comfort my nervousness—life is a process, and as long as you are enjoying it, you are not wasting it.