The Wakeups

I tend to wake up with a song in my head. Usually a pop song and not a slow one, a fast one that rips. Guitar solos, screeching lyrics. I never sing it out loud, but I do bop my head to it while I go to the bathroom.

I wonder what it’d be like to sing it aloud. I’m thinking it would perfect, like filling a glass of fruit punch all the way to the top or laying back into a snow angel.

One of the best wakeups is one without an alarm on a Sunday morning (who am I kidding, I haven’t used an alarm in decades!).

It’s luscious when it’s not a I-have-to-get-up, but a wow-I’m-awake! Just laying there with my eyes open staring at the ceiling.

It’s even better when it’s after a nap (like the one that inspired this little diddy).

I come into consciousness in my clothes, under a blanket, in daylight, and in that sweet grogginess of wondering if I should get up or go back to sleep, I find myself in a lazy wakefulness. Senses heightened. I notice the child’s drawing on the wall, stuck by only 3 thumbtacks, the 4th corner wavering in the stream of the heat vent. I hear the unevenness of a jet plane’s turbine cracking open the sky. My own breaths, as hypnotic as lapping waves, soft and gently spaced apart.

So content, on the edge of comfort before it cascades over into boring.

And then, of course, there are the crappy wakeups. Being shaken out of peaceful dreamlessness by little fingers covered in marker and cookie crumbs. Hearing the grown of the garbage truck engine 2 stories down. The ominous buzz of my phone on the bookshelf at 3am.

When I’m woken up unnaturally, I come to awareness without synapses, speaking nonsense and not knowing it. Making others laugh but not being in on the joke. but isn’t this also a kind of a bliss? Unconstructive, Unpractical thoughts crowding out the to-dos.

And the crappiest of all: the wakeup without the falling back. The wakeup but-I-can’t-get-back. When the horrid claw of consciousness won’t let go, I often get up and write down the thing that’s keeping me up. It works. I recommend it. Shine a light on the joke, complete the interrupted sentence.

The sleep after that is among the best. It’s like the softness of a shoe after getting out the pebble, the sound of a letter fitting into an envelope.

I suppose I could go on continuing to rate my wakeups but that would be doing them a disservice. When you get down to it, they’re all great.

Coming back into the world, more precious minutes to collect.

Another birth, different from the last.

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