Miserable Mornings and Fleeting Flashbacks

I sincerely struggled to get out of bed this morning. I woke up feeling like an angry old neighbor – the type of person who miserably yells at any children who step near her front lawn. Momentarily, I transformed into a stubborn weed in a field of tulips, a shell-less baby turtle, or maybe even a reclusive hermit – grimacing, cold and desperate for the Monday morning blues, on a Friday, to disappear.

Thus, it took a culmination of willpower and mental determination to convince myself to pull my blankets off me. On a normal, well-rested morning, I generally ease myself into the endeavor, peaking my feet out from underneath a sea of blankets to gauge my surroundings before I materialize out of bed. But this morning was like ripping a Band-Aid off a freshly healed wound. This morning, I couldn’t tease at its edges. I couldn’t slowly rub away at its sticky adhesive until it relented.

My commute wasn’t any better. After forcing myself to get ready, I made my way to the train, in a half-asleep state. I hated the stairs. My book bag must have been filled with cement and I lost a fight for a subway seat. My ride also consisted of several heart stopping panic attacks, which surfaced every time I awoke from a brief power nap, convinced I missed my stop.

Based on the way my morning unfolded, I thought today would be one of those days when every thing is colored in shades of grey and time becomes sticky, moving slowly and defiantly along. I was certain today would be long and drawn out, miserable and persistent…

But as I was exiting the train station, I encountered a lady who triggered a flashback. I didn’t know her nor did I get the opportunity to see her face. In the time it took to walk up a flight of stairs, I familiarized myself with her back, her hair, the shirt she was wearing and the way she moved.

Strangely, for some reason, it all reminded me of Thailand. She reminded me of the older women on the streets, who worked behind street stalls and during the night markets. Her style, her demeanor and her very presence were all familiar. It momentarily showered me with a feeling of happiness – of the long, hot days in Chiang Mai, of the hours spent shopping like a tourist and of the incredible memories that were buried.

Miraculously, this was enough to change my entire mood for the day. I surfaced from the train station, ready to conquer the world…

Of course, after a cup of coffee.