Sunday Scribblings - Anticipation

As I lay in my warm bed, somewhere between the world of sleep and dreamscapes and the world of wakefulness and though, I can smell it. It is a faint, rich aroma which my nose unmistakably recognises. My nostrils twitch slightly and the smell brings me out of the cosy darkness of sleep and into the faint light of a new day.

I look at the clock and a gentle smile spreads over my face when I realise I still have another 15 minutes before the radio blares whatever crazy tune JACK FM chooses to play at 6:45am, a rock flashback that heralds the beginning of a new day. Most mornings, when the smell does not wake me, I bolt upright straight from sleep at the noise pouring out of the loud radio and leap out of bed to stop the noise of Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, The Eagles. But not this morning.

This morning I stretch lazily, my eyes closed and take a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful smell. For a few minutes I chase the dreams that played across my mind while I was asleep, recalling snippets of crazy sequences and much more rarely, a dream of true prophecy or a dream that points to my deepest self.

I am more awake than asleep now and the smell seems stronger, although it probably is not. I am just more awake, more aware and my anticipation is building. I check the alarm clock again, 5 more minutes until the radio will begin it's Monday to Friday blast of wakefulness. I close my eyes and wish for more time in bed, but my wish is futile. So I wish for something else.

I hear him carefully open the door and I smile, not so as it appears on my face, but my soul smiles, deep inside in the place where he touches me. The smell grows stronger and stronger. He walks softly to my bed and I play possum, keeping my eyes closed. My mouth begins to water as he sits on the side of my bed. He knows I'm awake, and I know he knows I'm awake but we like to play this game.

He places the steaming mug of coffee very very close to me, on my bedside table. I can tell he has brewed the Columbian roast, and he has put just the right amount of cream in. I open my eyes to find him looking at me.

"Good morning" he says, smiling.

"Good morning" I reply, opening my arms and reaching for him. He comes willingly to me and we kiss. He tastes like coffee - rich, dark and strong. We make love, as the cup of coffee grows cold on the bedside table.