Later Never Comes

I can hear the birds singing their song of praise to be in the moment, easing into the next, without a concern as my head burrows further underneath the blankets on this bed. Thank heavens for the sunshine and the warmth it provides. Just as equally, I enjoy the time away from time when my soul can travel free of any restrictions or obligations the human existence can create. The darkness and peace I feel underneath the covers is divine, refreshing to the spirit within me that is of me.

She bangs on the door hard, firmly expressing, “Get up, it’s time to move.” I don’t respond and sigh, releasing energy from the limitation of my physical form when the temptation to fly away within the beauty of the sky entices me. I close my eyes, just begin to ease into relaxation again when she opens the door, rushes into the room, pulls up the blinds as the sunlight eagerly embraces the space between us and around us.

“It’s time to get up. We have work to do,” she states with urgency as she leaves the room. I allow my essence to almost fully be transported into my body, slowly. Work is a fancy label for limitation. Work is a human creation of an attempt at stopping the soul from experiencing the joy of being in the moment, creating the fantasies that become reality, right here and now. I don’t believe in labels. I would rather play, play, play, taking in the purity and sweetness of being alive.

I tiptoe my way, in pajamas and crusty eye crumbs, to the kitchen where my mother is mopping the floor. Just as I am about to open my mouth to ask a question, she blurts, “Don’t step on the floor, it’s wet.” I back up onto the living room rug as she says, “Come on, let’s go, we have work to do.”

I sigh and say, “I desire to sleep a little later on Saturday morning.”

She says, “You will have Sunday to sleep or later. I don’t want to spend the whole day cleaning.”

Hmmm…I wonder how true the latter statement is…as she grows older, sleeping past 8am is something that has become a routine. I wait and I wait and I wait, realizing that later never comes.

Author: Gabriella

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