It is Eight in the morning, the clouds envious of the sun's shine. They cover the sky forcing a false chill on what should be a bright morning. Being the type of people who visit Twitter before confirming that they can breath, I log into the bird app and a " what do you wake up to" tweet welcomes me.
Should I tell them that I wake up to their tweets? In the age of Amerix's Four Bs, it is wrong. So I won't. I look around, searching for inspiration to aid me in the reply. I wake up to nothing new, the air smells like yesterday.
I wake up to almost silent dawns. Cock crows punctuating the rather peaceful early mornings. I wake up to chicken flapping their wings, with a hope that they will fly higher than yesterday. I wake up to new blessings.
I wake up to battery low warnings, and data depletion messages with my phone acting as the blanket, resting on my chest. I wake up to news that I was blocked, just because I drifted to slumber before replying to her messages. It's my new normal.
I wake up to the whistling of trees, and a distant " Allah Wakbar" chant. Making me reminisce on the days I visited my Muslim aunt and went to the mosque in shorts. The imam discouraged me from that after the 'service' was done.
I often wake up to a full bladder and an erection. The journey from the top of my double decker bed to the lavatory is often disappointing and a rather daunting task.A knock on the door, before it dawns on me that someone is using the toilet. I marktime for about thirty seconds before proceeding, dejected, to help myself near the Avocado tree.
If this had been some years earlier, I would have woken up to the late Ben Oluoch's Voice. He was a presenter in one of the vernacular radio stations, Ramogi Radio. That was before we disconnected the radio speaker in our room ,tired of Dad imposing his way of life on us.
Sometimes I wake up to my mother's shouting. She never seems to understand why the sun has to rise before us. My gadget, her worst enemy. She doesn't get why I have to stay up till around midnight smiling to myself only to wake up just before eight.
A few other times, I wake up before sleeping. Staying up all night, keeping up with the fights on my mind. I hate it this way, good thing is that such nights don't come around often.
How does it feel being God's favorite?Waking up to the sweet aroma from the kitchen, wafting its way to your room. With the sun casting its golden rays on your navy blue curtains. That's what I woke up to during my composition days, I'm sure we all did. What do you wake up to?
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