Morning Reverie

Day 2 of Daily Post’s Writing 101.

I woke up to the sound of waves crashing over the rocks.

The room was filled with soft morning light filtering in through the white curtains, casting a glow on everything in the room. I got off my bed and walked towards the window, the sound drawing me close. To my dismay, my window showed me the massive rocks and no waves. You see, the room was somewhat at the basement level of the sea-side hotel.

I checked the time, it was 6:15am. I rarely woke up so early during the holidays. My brother was still fast asleep, oblivious to the roars of the unseen waves.

I quickly freshened up, crept out of the room, went over to see if anyone else I knew was awake. None. I slowly climbed up the stairs to the lobby of the hotel to peek over if anyone was in the dining area, again, no familiar face. The balcony, which would have provided the view of the waves had other early risers occupying all the space and enjoying their breakfast with the seagulls.

Feeling quite joyful, I went out and around the hotel’s gates towards the rocks. There was the dewy fragrance mixed with salty sea smell in the air. The sun was hidden in among the clouds and far off at the horizon, the grey sky blended with the grey sea. The scene was speckled with birds flying to and fro, catching their early fish and flying back to the mountains where they nested.

I made my way walking carefully on the moss-covered rocks in just flip-flops and PJs. I walked until I was a mere 10 feet away from the point where the waves crashed over the rocks and the water rushed through the crevices and sipped back into the sea.

Wind blew my hair off my face, the sea spraying me with cold water,and I couldn’t be more happier! The sound was soothing, the cold water refreshing, the view, breathtaking… I could stand there for the rest of the day and not feel tired. I scanned over to see how far the rocky shore went, the shore curving gently behind, along the C shaped road, until I could no longer see.

My morning reverie was broken with my mother calling me from her hotel room balcony, her expression of utter shock that I was up awake and among rocks. I walked back to the hotel’s entrance, looking over my shoulder often, to catch glimpses of the white foam crashing over the weathered rocks.

Later that afternoon, Mossel Bay
It’s the one place that has remained with me even after 3 years; Mossel bay, South Africa.


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