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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1182900-A-Morning-in-Florida
Rated: 13+ · Non-fiction · Other · #1182900
A description of a morning for me when I lived in Florida
It’s ten, and the sun has already begun its raise to the heavens. Its cold, about fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and there is dew on the grass outside. The warmth of my bed is more than convincing for me to stay in it, and I tiredly shift position. The sound of absolutely nothing, apart from the bugs waking up and singing their quiet songs is outside my window. I hear our neighbor's roosters call out, and it causes me to open an eye. I blink it several times, then blink open the other one. I feel the urge to stretch out, and do so, pushing my legs down into the soft bed, and stretching out my arms above my head. I scrape the sand out from the inner part of the eyelid. The silky sheets of my bed glide over my unclothed arms and legs, and I smile from the soft feeling. I lay there for a moment, letting the clean, cool air enter my nostrils; I yawn, and scratch my neck slowly. My mind is beginning to jump start, and I remember its Sunday, which means I don’t have to hurry up to school. Regardless, I check the time.

I scratch my head in the back and lay back down to snooze off the sleepiness, and let my mind get up in peace. I hear the quiet hum of my brother’s computer next door, and assume that hes been on it all night again playing that online game. Mom's already gone to work, either on the computer or out showing a house. I feel sorry for her, and suddenly despair over the fact that she does everything for our family, and my brother and I do so little back. I try not to think about it at that point, so I don’t have a depressed mood all day, which is exactly the thing I don’t need at that point. The blinds for my window are closed, but they glow orange-red from the sun in the cracks between them. The insects now begin to sing their uniquely long chirps louder, and it reminds me of how special they are for my part of Florida . Later in my life, I’d miss their song in the mornings.

After a few minutes, and the sun hangs above the trees, I get up and put on my black pants, keeping on the black shirt I wore to sleep because it wasn’t too dirty. I turn on my computer and walk to the kitchen while it boots up. On the way, I see Harry, my brother, playing his online game like I suspected. I tell him good morning and he responds with a long “uh huh”, which sounds more like a moan. In the kitchen, I see Jim, my step dad, getting his boots on. He’s wearing blue jeans with his white "Diamond Offshore" work-shirt tucked in it and a tattered leather belt. I say good morning, he looks up, and does one of his over-joyful smiles. Sometimes I wish he was serious from time to time, at least in the mornings.

“Well mornin there sleepin’ beauty!” he says energetically, and gets his foot in the last boot. “You sleep good last night?” He says happily. “Yeah, and I can tell you did too. Sometimes I think you snort cocaine or something every morning to be so energized”, I say jokingly. “Nah, I’ve been up for two hours now and no point in being lazy now, I got work to do!” and before he could suggest the same for me, I said “I’ll make breakfast, be back here in about thirty minutes, alright?” I say. “okaaaay, Freddie, you do that.” He says as he steps out the door to our pool-deck on the way outside. Before he goes out, I ask “hey, by the way Jimmy, where’s mom?” “Ah she’s showing the lot on Thacker Trail to someone, she should be home in a couple of hours.” “Alright”, I say as he goes outside and I begin getting eggs and bacon out.

After making scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, I put it all on the table in the room across from the kitchen, with plates, silverware, drinks, ect… our house is big with high ceilings and big open rooms, apart from the bedrooms which are smaller and have doors. I finish preparing it and go outside to call on Jim for breakfast. He shouts back “Got it!” and begins back towards the house. I then go to Harry and tell him that breakfast is ready. Usually, he’d come when we were all finished, because somehow he always has to do something important in the game when we are eating. This time, however, his computer was turned off and he was getting his clothes on. “Fine” he says, and walks to the table, where Jim was already and standing behind his chair.
© Copyright 2006 Nightingale (kalki at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1182900-A-Morning-in-Florida