yesterday in the middle of winter i had a summer day

[Big McLargehuge]

The mornings never seemed to be a time for forgetting. Dreams, though fading quickly, still lingered and days could be looked forward to. The sun slants through windows and pries at sleeping eyes sending promises that today will go on forever (the sun is a liar).

The first thing I did this morning is open my window. Everything was green and white and black and blue and every color was brilliant. The road running in front of my house had a thousand tiny diamonds embedded in it that could only be seen when the sun hit them at just the right low angle (the same angle he uses to lie to your morning eyes).

Summer mornings always try to tell you that the world is there for you to use, the grass for you to run without shoes through. The gravel for you to crunch (still shoeless) hopping through cause your feet hurt from sharp edges. Cement is evil and asphalt would as soon burn you as look at you (and since it never looks it feels the compulsive need to burn).

Breakfast today should be grapefruit, with big molasses brown sugar crystals dancing light on it. It should be bitter and sugary and it should bite you when you use a metallic spoon. Your tongue should tingle and your lips should be kinda numb with the citric taste of freshly cut and quartered grapefruit.
Mornings should always happen in summer when they can be bright and hopeful and they should come early and stay late, lounging on your porch and sitting on your lawn. They should drink iced tea with you and not tell stories but make them. I wish every morning was in summer.