I flicked the light on with a wince in anticipation of the flash of pain that usually accompanies the early morning ritual. The stubborn shadows, smudgy, refused to follow protocol and remained ensconced where they were before I introduced the glowing bulb to their world. I attempted to blink them into cooperation, but their will was stronger than mine.
I wanted to quote Dangerfield, “no respect,” but my brain, fuzzy, couldn’t get my mouth to work. Understanding that things weren’t happening as they should, my mind started the routines to check for damage, until it realized that the mouth was busy with a yawn and therefore unavailable for words. Once the yawn was finished, my mind tried to initiate speaking again but I’d forgotten what I wanted to say.
I moved forward choosing to ignore the insolence of the shadows and their refusal to perform as expected. Perhaps it was too early for them, as well. Couldn’t blame them for that. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to fully ignore the spots of darkness either. My eyes, twitchy, sought them out in their wrongness and watched for the movement that would send them to where they belonged and would signal I had finally woken.
That was this morning.
I’m still waiting.
I can see the shadows, out of place still, stalking the periphery.
I fear they are waiting for me to forget them…