Waking up.

Lately: I wake up and hit the snooze button at 7:50 and turn back towards the wall, burying my face in my body pillow, wanting to sleep again. But I dread that noise, so within nine minutes I turn and open the blinds, shedding light on the passage in Lucas. After a chapter, I stumble to the bathroom, then back to my desk, where I read any emails I've gotten in the last six hours– usually just the trollview.

This summer: I wake up when I hear Miranda tell her best friend Paige, "I hate you! I ----ing hate you!" as she plops onto the creeking bed next to mine and pulls a loose sheet over her torso. They are drunk, so I figure the hate will only last until sunrise. I make my watch glow and read "3:43." Three hours to sleep until I must start setting up the breakfast buffet. The sun will rise by the time the coffee brews.

Sevilla: I wake up as Alaina gets ready for school. I fill in my grammar worksheet and read some Don Quijote while she blow-dries her hair. After she hurriedly gathers her books and tells me "paz fuera" I shuffle to the kitchen and pour myself a bowl of cornflakes. Sometimes I sneak a breakfast cookie. I get ready by 8:36 (or was it 9:36? I really can't remember) so I can walk the mile through Triana, across the Guadalquivir and up the marble staircase to school.

A year ago: I wake up to a roommate's cell phone alarm, strategically positioned about a foot from my head and three fluffy pillows from her head. After about a minute of that song playing too loud for that cell phone's speakers, I gently set the phone next to her ear and curl into a fetal position facing the window and start to think. I know I won't fall asleep again, so I turn off my alarm and follow my well-planned route from my bunk to the little patch of floor on the far side of the room.

That summer: I wake up to the first buzz of my alarm and turn it off right away. I slide out out of my slick sleeping bag and sneak to the bathroom. I find my athletic pants by the light coming from the bathroom, then I grab my backpack (Bible and camera inside) and walk out to greet the mountain and the morning.

Freshman year: I wake up at whatever odd time I set my alarm to. It drives Lori nuts, because she thinks alarms should only be set to the even hour or fifteen minute increments. I eat my fruit, yogurt, and granola.

The summer before that: I wake up when the sun overcomes the fact that I worked until one. I lounge around the house or put on my mowing pants and hit the cemetery.

Two and a half years ago: I wake up at 5:47 and think about pillows and blankets while I take a quick shower. By 6:20 I'm eating breakfast and at 6:50 I am driving Pootermobile to the corner. Kind of like last Sunday.