Breakfast is served.

This is my life: Every morning A would get up first (and don’t ask me how he does it, he is ALWAYS giddy and happy in the mornings) while I would need another hour or so to properly wake up. Usually he is really chatty in the mornings as well (me: not so much) and he will make jokes and sing and talk really loudly (mind you, this is 5 am EVERY morning we are talking about including Saturdays, Sundays and public holidays). He would make breakfast for me and sing about how he makes breakfast and he would laugh at his own jokes.

This took some time to get used to. It’s basically like a quadruple espresso at 3 am on an empty stomach and I am more the hot chocolate type of person. But as I watch A pour some hot water into my favorite tea mug, singing about  how the water is hot and how he is pouring it, I realize that this is what I wanted all my life: Someone that loves life so much, he has to sing about it. Granted at 5 am this is not everyone’s cup of tea but for me? I wouldn’t want it any other way.

It’s been about two weeks since A last poured me hot water into my tea mug, since then I have been pouring my water myself and I usually don’t sing about it (aloud). My breakfasts in general have been a rather sad version of what I would get at home (homemade bread, special harvested tea and sometimes home made jam). In my 100 squarefoot apartment (a shoebox) I get a cup of green tea (no brand), some pb and some store bought bread or if I feel adventures an orange, some cereal and some real Hong Kong-ese milk.

So yes, my mornings took some time to get used to. The quiet in the morning can be haunting, especially considering that I live with the most perkiest person (again at 5 am) in the world. But that’s the thing, having to be apart from A for a couple weeks makes me realize even more, that there is no one else I’d rather be with. Of course it sometimes gets on my nerves that he sings on top of his lungs in our super tiny shower and everything echoes and my ears ring before I even had the chance to open my eyes, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

And now, that I told you about my loving husband and his early morning rituals, I will go outside into the humidity and heat, where beads of sweat are constantly forming on my exposed skin. I will ride a bus where the only way it will stop is by me yelling at the driver (in Cantonese) and I will try to find refuge in the arms of the AC frozen rooms of the University. I will have to tell you all about that some other time though, for now I just need to find a way to wake up properly so I won’t get run over by crazy cabdrivers.

Good morning everyone.