Day by Day, Bone by Bone

6.i.24

For the past few years, I have been drinking two glasses of water as soon as I am on my feet, barely awake. The distance to the kitchen, next to the bedroom, is covered stumbling, with poor posture and eyes half-open. With every sip from an orange plastic mug that once belonged to the youngest member of the family, my body straightens up – bone by bone, so to speak. My gaze clears as well. The sips are at once greedy and leery. Only lukewarm water from the tap will do; long gone are the mornings with juice or refrigerator-cold sparkling water. When the cup is emptied for the second time – once would be too few, three too many – I feel awake in that wonderful way that means dreams have become just that, parallel-world events, and I henceforth belong to the vertical ranks of the newly awakened. For a brief moment, I am even convinced that, as the mug is emptied, I was secretly drinking sunlight.