waking up

there is so much more to life than what seems.

today, i woke up to the sound of tennis balls hitting asphalt. the sound of screen doors sliding open to let in the santa ana winds. the sounds of small dogs barking at birds, fellow dogs or cats in the distance. the sound of children playing on the green grass outside my apartment. the blinds let in just the right amount of light. i could taste the newness of the day.

2 months ago. today i woke up to the first of five prayers. to the chants of submission of devotion. i woke up to the massive faith of an entire nation, willing itself for God. i woke up to the smells of hummus and pita. i heard the breeze hit my balcony window. the eerie chants lingering in the hot air.

3 months ago. today i woke up to a melting pot of religion. to the high and lows of Buddhist monks straining to find breath. to the smells of new rain and trash. today i woke up and scratched the redness off my skin. to the creaking fan in my grandmother's house. to the many dogs barking at no one. i woke up to the familiarity of home. the smells of fresh tea and curry cooking in the kitchen.

a year ago. today i woke up to the sound of reggae music barreling through tin walls. the sound of clothes being dashed against rocks in attempts to be clean. i woke up to the husky belts of women singing as they nursed their children and cooked ugi. i woke in the arms of a beautiful man, dancing and singing to the sounds of his heritage. to the smells of simplicity and the stench of abject poverty. to the humility of not knowing.

a year ago. today i woke up to the sounds of mariachi music and sirens. to the screams of children playing at 7am because their parents had to drop them off 0ne hour early to make their three jobs. i woke up to the sounds of helicopters flying in the distance and car horns. to the smells of community and faith. i woke up to the newness of justice and the veracity of servanthood.

three years ago. i woke up to the sounds of girls singing in the distance. to the smells of fish, rice and adobo. i woke up in the humidity of it, the smell of morning. i woke up to the clinks and clanks of dishes as breakfast was being prepared. i peered out my window and saw the piles of tin and cloth, called home. the rivers of dirt, debris and dreams laying stagnant next to a city of greed. i woke up to the sound of women trying to be free.

before. i woke up to the screams, the frustration in my blood's voice. the tension of love misread and misheard. i woke up and heard the slams of doors, the breaking of glass, the bruising of skin. today i woke up to the ominous silence of uncertainty. the richness of fear and the vulnerability of childhood. today i woke up to the past.

now. i woke up and thought, what's the purpose? what is my end goal? what is the point of my existence? there is a deep longing for meaning. i wake up and search for it everyday. to figure out why God allows what He allows. Why God permits what He permits. Why God says no when i desperately want a yes. today i woke up and i asked...why?