Something About Early Mornings

There’s something about mornings. Not the 7am-breakfast-by-the-beach kind or the sunrise-jogging-on-the-park. It’s not about a breakfast in bed—something I never really had. It’s hours before the sun even think of rising—way before the world wakes up—way before the world jolts you to the reality that you have to survive another day. It’s when the mountains are dark and the sky is so quiet. It’s when you’re alone with the full moon and not even the stars bothered to accompany you in your revere. It’s 3 am in deep thoughts when even your demons are deep asleep.

The wind blew and I shivered even with the thick blanket around me. My cheeks are already ice cold from the chilling wind and call me crazy but this is what I love about Baguio. I love this kind of mornings. I love it when I can just sit by my window and watch the world sleep. Everything about this moment reminds me of home. Reminds me that this is my home now and it will always be.

I leaned forward to peak out of the window when I heard a car approaching. My heart leaped when I saw the black Vios approaching our gate. He’s just in time, meaning he didn’t drive fast to come back like he always does. I watched the driver jump out of the driver seat to open the low gate. Even from the second floor of our house, I can see his tall frame.

A small smile formed on my lips when he slowly opened the gate as if trying not to wake anyone. He still hasn’t seen me and I took it as a chance to just watch him. I have always been in awe of how he can move gently yet skillfully. Maybe it comes with the long years of drag racing or maybe it’s just a part of who he is.

“Hey,” I grinned when he finally noticed me. The lamp post along the road is casting shadows on his face but I can clearly see him frowning. “I told you to go to sleep already,”

“I just woke up,” I said in a raspy voice.

“You should at least close the windows. It’s cold out here,” he said as he walked back to the car.

I wanted to tell him that it's fine. I wanted to tell him that the wind is keeping me company while waiting for him but I decided not to respond. He will just scold me. He hates it when I stay too long out in the cold because I easily get sick. I guess the things that we love is not always good for us.

He maneuvered the car into the garage and after a while, I saw him jogging back to the gate to close it. Then, he turned to me with his usual grin.

“Hey, Abi,” he shouted, his voice echoing throughout Aquilegia Ridge. “I’m home.”

My heart swelled, not of happiness but of bliss—something I often feel since I met him and that felt a long, long time ago.

I smiled back at him. “Welcome home.”