Sunday Mornings
By: Mylinh Nguyen
I used to be
awaken bright and early
The first
one in my family to be
exact. 7:30
and it’s time to
wake mom up.
I would nudge on her on the right.
“It’s time to wake up
mommy!” I would say.
She would
say, “ Now go wake your dad up.”
Dad grunting
as a sound that he is
awake. The
sun creeping to their eyes, as
they both ask
for five more minutes.
Running out
of their room, as I enter
Lisa’s room.
The best way to wake her up
is to pull
the blanket. I do so and
quickly
run. Racing down the stairs of death,
in front of
the television I go.
Trying to catch the favorite show,
5 minutes left to spare, so I make myself
comfortable.
My hippo pillow and a bowl
of lucky charms. Ahh, what heaven I’m in.
I would hear
footsteps trickling down the
stairs.
Finally, everyone is awake. 20
With less
than 10 minutes left of the show,
Mom said, “Time
to get dress and go to church.”
Those words
are like nails on a chalk to me.
I put on my
yellow sun dress and smirk.
Everyone
rushed in the car and away
we go.
Speeding on the freeway as fast
as we can.
Trying to find that prefect
parking
spot. Off we go into church
In the name
of the father, the son and
the holy
spirit. I start to doze off.
Early Sunday Morning
BY EDWARD HIRSCH
I used to mock my father and his chums
for getting up early on Sunday morning
and drinking coffee at a local spot
but now I’m one of those chumps.
No one cares about my old humiliations
but they go on dragging through my sleep
like a string of empty tin cans rattling
behind an abandoned car.
It’s like this: just when you think
you have forgotten that red-haired girl
who left you stranded in a parking lot
forty years ago, you wake up
early enough to see her disappearing
around the corner of your dream
on someone else’s motorcycle
roaring onto the highway at sunrise.
And so now I’m sitting in a dimly lit
café full of early morning risers
where the windows are covered with soot
and the coffee is warm and bitter.
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