i am not really a morning person. my alarm rang at 4:00 am and i let its five-minute interval snoozes occur for five times, to say the least. what really woke me up is my mom, screaming, telling me that she doesn't want me to stain my punctuality records. OK, i went down, my thoughts still in between reality and dreams.
my parents are seated on the chairs of our dining table, and as i wash my face to jerk me totally into reality, i heard them both scold my brother for spilling his chocolate drink over his white uniform. my brother is absent-minded too, i thought. i grabbed my cup of coffee and squeezed myself at the empty seat between my mom and my brother. my dad is halfway through his anti-memory gap chocolate flavored drink, and is also busy reading today's news. my mom's just starting to sip some of her tea while my brother had finished his drink by emptying his glass onto his shirt, and is now busy cleaning the mess. this is what we call breakfast-- no one's opening up a conversation, or maybe it's just because today is going to be a hectic day (just like the other days) and there's no time to waste.
i sighed. my parents are going to work hard again, ad perhaps they are going to call overtime for some additional credits. i usually come home earlier than my brother, and when we are together, we barely talk because of the homework and projects between us. by the time our parents get home, we are both on our third state of sleep. that's how our life goes. sometimes i even forget how my parents look like due to lack of communication and meetings.
i glanced down at my coffee cup, its contents had gone cold by now. my mom screamed at me to move a little faster. i took a sip and smiled. though i am not a morning person, my coffee means a lot to me. drinking it signifies breakfast-- when i have my family close together. their faces are enough for me to have a great start for my day.*
(this story was featured in the June-October 2006 issue of the Republic. special thanks to Aziza Aguilar, the Repub's cartoonist for the illustration. hehe.)
my parents are seated on the chairs of our dining table, and as i wash my face to jerk me totally into reality, i heard them both scold my brother for spilling his chocolate drink over his white uniform. my brother is absent-minded too, i thought. i grabbed my cup of coffee and squeezed myself at the empty seat between my mom and my brother. my dad is halfway through his anti-memory gap chocolate flavored drink, and is also busy reading today's news. my mom's just starting to sip some of her tea while my brother had finished his drink by emptying his glass onto his shirt, and is now busy cleaning the mess. this is what we call breakfast-- no one's opening up a conversation, or maybe it's just because today is going to be a hectic day (just like the other days) and there's no time to waste.
i sighed. my parents are going to work hard again, ad perhaps they are going to call overtime for some additional credits. i usually come home earlier than my brother, and when we are together, we barely talk because of the homework and projects between us. by the time our parents get home, we are both on our third state of sleep. that's how our life goes. sometimes i even forget how my parents look like due to lack of communication and meetings.
i glanced down at my coffee cup, its contents had gone cold by now. my mom screamed at me to move a little faster. i took a sip and smiled. though i am not a morning person, my coffee means a lot to me. drinking it signifies breakfast-- when i have my family close together. their faces are enough for me to have a great start for my day.*
(this story was featured in the June-October 2006 issue of the Republic. special thanks to Aziza Aguilar, the Repub's cartoonist for the illustration. hehe.)
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