She lays in bed, eyes closed and listens to the leaky faucet in the bathroom. It's a familiar sound that has been going on for years. Every morning for around ten to fifteen minutes, that faucet will slowly drip and then suddenly, it will just stop. She's never bothered to fix it.
It's early and the sun is beginning to peek though the bedroom window. It's rays gingerly reaching across the dresser, over the carpet and climbing up to her bed. She can feel the gentle warming of her blankets and eventually, her face. She closes her eyes tighter knowing the light will shine too brightly once it reaches her line of sight. She meant to get a black out shade for that window but just never got around to it.
Later in the day, the sun will stretch its beams fully into the room, causing the temperature to rise and making the air too stuffy for comfort. She thinks once again about having a ceiling fan installed but that's all it is, just a thought.
She opens her eyes. The sound of that leaky faucet has been her wake up call for as long as she can remember, whispering dawn's arrival in her ear each day. Once the dripping stops, she knows it's time to rise. She squints as the sunlight flashes in her eyes and quickly sits up to place herself back in the shadows and allow her sight to adjust. I really should do something about that window.
The floorboards sound their protest as she walks across them. In her mind, she likes to think the sounds are an echo of her own reluctance to greet the day, rather than a reflection of their age and condition. Not likely to fix those anyway.
pop pop pop pop
Her joints make their opinions known as well as she bends to pick up her robe which has slid off the foot of the bed and onto the floor. They appear to be even more reluctant to greet this day than she is. The pain, a screaming reminder that she should make that appointment to see the rheumotologist. She will...later.
Her bedroom door slowly swings open on hinges badly in need of oil. One more thing she hasn't managed to get to yet. At the edge of the partially open door, just below the doorknob, a small hand has curled into view. Following that hand, a round face appears, with chubby cheeks and big brown eyes that peer at her from under a tangled mass of long dark hair. She holds out her arms to her daughter.
thump thump thump thump thump
The child runs into the room and leaps into her mother's arms. Their embrace contains everything they are for just a brief moment and then they tumble to the bed, accompanied by kisses and giggles. Now, she is ready to face the day.
Not a true sound, just a release of pent up air. The source of the sound is unclear but if someone were to be looking at the house from the street at that exact moment, they might have noticed that the sagging awning seemed a little straighter and the dingy paint seemed a little brighter, if just for a brief moment.