The Child of the Morning: Rosy-Fingered Dawn

     I wish I could post a photo of the view of the sunrise for you readers.  I’ve been watching it for twenty minutes, coming up over the tall buildings that line the East River.  It was purple-pink, then rose, and then orange bled into it.  Now it’s getting yellow and I can’t look at it anymore.   Burn my eyes.  


     Since I stopped drinking, my memory’s gotten so much better (imagine that, huh?).  I always had a fantastic memory.  In school, I didn’t really have to study, for the most part (had to study Math.  Without a doubt.  Chemistry sucked, too.  I mean, chemistry is awesome, only my ability to easily comprehend it sucked.).  If I read it carefully, I remembered it.  I’m not bragging, I’m just saying.


     Why do I apologize for my talents?


    Times like this, I wish that I had a Nigel.  A nigel of my very own! (click the link–“I Blame the Patriarchy.”  Not an easy read–I didn’t get it the first few hours I was there.  But if you hang in there…it’s worth it.)


      A nigel!  We would canoodle in my bed.  Maybe he would make me a waffle.  I would eat a waffle for him.  A whole waffle!  


     I have to go back to see my family and I don’t want to, even though I love them.  That place is haunted.  I want to drink.  If I had scotch here, I’d drink it, even though it is 7:30 AM.  Isn’t that disgusting?  Totally disgusting.  I am not even doing it, and it’s disgusting.  ARGH!  Well, Margo, don’t torture yourself over something you haven’t done.


     I am sad.  I want a boy!  Why don’t I get one?  They are easy to get.


    I still have Jeff’s phone number.  I wonder if I could get him back?    If he’s not with another woman, I bet I could charm him again.  


    That was a real man.  A real mature, responsible man.  Emotionally evolved.  


    But how could I do it to him–knowing myself as I do? 


    scotch scotch scotch scotch scotch  


4 thoughts on “The Child of the Morning: Rosy-Fingered Dawn”

  1. Hi Advo! It’s Christmas Eve and I’m in the barbaric land of my birth. Don’t worry, I’m dry. One more day! Counting days again is crummy though.

    Merry Christmas! Thanks for reading.

  2. Sometimes the holidays make me feel good. Sometimes they make me feel bad. I definitely get the sense of missed opportunities at this time of year. It’s an especially pernicious type of self-loathing. My goal in life is to be defined by my future, not by my past. I get glimmers of that sometimes.

    John

  3. Pernicious, John, is EXACTLY the right word. Other people, including yourself, have told me that my first Holiday season on the wagon could be very…unpleasant. Boy, you were not kidding. I’ve had worse (unfortunately), but this one was definitely tough. The lead=up was definitely the worst, as you can see. I think I am okay now.

    I think one of the painful parts about getting older is having to deal with the inevitable feeling of loss that comes with the important choices we make. Even the best decisions entail some sacrifice, and you can’t go back.

    Sometimes, though–as I’m sure you know–you do get the chance to do it over, try again, do it right.

    Daunting task, but yes, the past is gone. The only way out is forward.

    Thanks for your helpful comment!

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