just feel alive.

I wake up early. It's probably the way the sun comes in and hits me across the legs, the way the room is still full of the chill of night, but I'm cozy in his warm sweater and under heavy comforters, the way I can stretch and turn over and stretch again.
I take a long shower under pounding water. God, steaming cleansing streaming water. On my face, my back, my hair; lather, rinse, repeat. A towel, warm and clothes clean from the dryer.
Breakfast. I open the curtains, and let the yellow sun pour in, the back porch and trees all brilliant with summer nearing. T'is warm, a coffee, eggs, toast. The house creaks as I proceed to open every shade in the house, windows and blinds letting in both gold and cold.
I'm going to go somewhere, no way I'm staying inside this early on a glorius June day, crisp and clear and warm in the sunlight and chilled in the shade, blue and sky and brightness.
I've walked this trail once before, summers ago, with my brother. It's less recognizable with no leaves all over, when I get to the halfway mark I am breathing deep and heavy, filling my lungs. I stand in the opening, and take in the sight spread out beneath me. Moments, really. I left the trail somewhere and I'm climbing up the side of the hill.
I could fall and hurt myself, no one would know. I could get lost and no one would know where I was. I could reach anywhere, the top of the world even and share the triumph with myself, alone in clear sunlight and brilliance.
I do, and stand there breathing, nose and hands red with exertion and cold, tingling with life and thrill and power and me. Just me.
I take my time getting home.