Washed out Wednesday

I woke up this morning and my face was stuck to the pillow. I fought with the sun rays peeping through the blinds. I needed more sleep. I rolled over and nestled deeper into the blankets. Morning was coming too fast. Finally, I threw the covers off and forced myself out of the bed and into the bathroom for a shower.

Today was not an updo day. The hair was too messy to pull back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of the neck. It wasn't a bangs pinned on top day either. No, I settled for the twist on the side. Simple, classy, and problem-free. Downstairs, grab a breakfast bar, then I'm out the door on my way to school.

I walk into the band room and set my stuff down in my seat. The office is full of people, so that's where I head next. I sit down on the floor and lean against the filing cabinets, waiting for class to start. There's a flying Mickey Mouse and a flurry of breakfast money while the sound of a marimba floats in through the open door. Soon the bell rings and musicians rush to grab their instruments while visitors flee to first block.

Band passes by with a dazed cacophony of articulation and an over-amplified metronome. Finally we are allowed to leave and the masses flood back into the instrument room to put away their metallic music makers before they scurry out the door to their next class.

I head out the back door and begin the journey to the library on the opposite side of campus. As I pass the leftover snow that has lived under the shadow of the awnings, I think about the hurry around me; I watch as teens trample through the delicate snow, disturbing the silky blanket that covered the ground. With all the hustle and bustle of the morning, they ignore the natural beauty that surrounds them everyday while chattering about the latest superfluous gossip.