Here Comes the Song

Here comes the sun, peeking through the blinds, every single morning. Whether I’m ready or not—and let’s face it, I never am. I do like my naps. So I have the slats angled just so—making sure the sun hits me square in the eyeballs.

“Uuuuggggghhhhhh,” I groan. Every time. Like one of these days someone in an authority position is going to register my complaint and repair this injustice.

Like: huh, you know, mornings have always been traumatic for Gray. Maybe the sun could be just a touch sweeter to her…

But no. It never happens.

And all the while there’s a song starting up in the back of my brain. Sounds like a radio in the next room maybe. No rhyme or reason, far as I’ve figured, to what it will be. Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit? Zach Bryan and Kings of Leon singing about The Bowery? Doesn’t mean I’m in a bad mood, nor that I hung out at some bar last night.

I mumble five more minutes into my pillow, but I already know. Five minutes ain’t worth nothing, so I streeeeetch and then begrudgingly sling my feet over the side of the bed, like someone has just asked me to lug a barrel of water on my back up a hill in the July sun. Oh right. Here comes the sun.

And then. Here comes the song.

It’s still playing in the background, but it gets a little louder. And sometimes there’s a story brewing up front—most days it’s both. I scowl as I do my squats and then pad down the hallway, feet on the cold tile floor, headed toward the bathroom. When I come back by, I catch a whiff of the coffee brewing. Extra strong. It makes me smile.

I hum a few bars as I brush my teeth. Might even gargle to the melody. Thank the Lord I laid my clothes out last night because I can barely find the things that are attached to my body at this juncture.

I holler from across the room, “Hey Siri, take a note:
She has a deathgrip on the handlebar but he bribes her with a Jolly Rancher.”
One shoe in hand, the other AWOL—because I laid out my outfit but forgot the footsies. I can’t wait to see what he actually writes down.

I flip my head over to brush my hair and wonder why this particular song today? I never figure that out. Sometimes I heard it yesterday, sometimes I haven’t heard it since childhood. Who knows.

The other day? One Fine Day by the Chiffons. Where did that even come from? Today, it was a Mazzy Star song. Fade Into You. I didn’t question it.

I finish my hair. Then a quick look at my reflection in the microwave door to swipe on some lipstick. By the time I’m at the coffee maker, it’s no longer a hum, no longer a thought, but a full-on performance. Complete with twirl. Maybe a shoulder shimmy. A little air guitar. Only as appropriate, of course.

Every morning the sun shows up, the coffee kicks in, and the song follows

.

Here’s the mixtape. Or. A list of songs that were in my head when I woke up this week.

Here Comes the Sun — The Beatles
Break Stuff — Limp Bizkit
Hard to Handle — The Black Crowes
Mr. Brightside — The Killers
The Bowery — Zach Bryan (feat. Kings of Leon)
One Fine Day — The Chiffons
Fade Into You — Mazzy Star

Here Comes the Sun

Saudade - A Novella

The Ugly Duckling- Ch 11