One Chilly Morning Essay, Research Paper
There is a place where the chill of the morning air cuts through a person like a knife. To stand up would take every muscle of the body, but even that would take too much energy. Thus, one sits upon the icy pond called the floor. Is this a dream? Somewhere a voice answers that it is more like a nightmare, so one just makes the most of it.All around the sights and sounds of the morning begin to take affect. Very few people are there in the beginning. They all are in a sleepy haze, yearning to be back in the sweet comforts of their own bed. There they can wrap themselves in a blanket of never ending warmth and dream a never ending dream. In the harsh reality of the morning, they are here in the chilly morning air. There are very few sounds in the twilight of the day. All that one can hear is the buzz of what is the beginning of talking. Far off there is the sound of an early morning basketball game. There the players can hear the cheering of the crowd of a championship ball game in its fourth quarter. Will they win? Who knows?There is an eerie aroma that starts to awaken the senses. In a nearby room there is a fresh, hot pot of coffee brewing. It begins to awaken the senses and the mind, however, one still would rather be at home in bed. A rotten stench begins to take the place of the coffee, but one decides against adventuring to its origin. Ah, the smell of breakfast begins to drift down from the cafeteria. It has the aroma of mom?s homemade pancakes and eggs. One begins to yearn to be home for a homemade meal, but they will settle for a bag of cereal that they brought with them.Soon people begin to filter in from the cold outside. Slowly it begins. First, one here, and then one over there. It is the sound of a coming summer?s thunderstorm, but in reality it is just students opening their lockers. Soon they scatter about to chat with a friend here and one over there. They then sit upon the icy floor to strive to finish work that?s due in less than an hour. As the minutes pass further on, the quiet hush of the early morning turns to a steady hum. It is as if there are hundreds of bees beginning their own busy work. A soft glow sets about the place making it seem more yet like a dream, but no one seems to notice.A clock sits upon the wall having no place to go. It too seems to yearn to be somewhere far off, perhaps its own bed. The hands tick away the minutes, making them seem more like hours. They produce a silent tick-tock sound, crying out for someone to relieve them of their duty, but nobody cares to hear them. The talking persists, continually growing like a herd of zebras running from their death. Suddenly, there is a voice from above that seems to come from the heavens. Is it the heavenly Father? No, it is just someone beckoning for some company.Again, the smell of coffee begins to overcome the hallway, and again the senses are teased into the sense of reality. Will the madness ever cease? Probably not. Another ball game has begun to take shape in the gymnasium. Perhaps it is just a continuation of the last one. There are several others just like it happening all around. Swoosh, as the buzzer goes off and the game is through.The day has slowly begun to warm up, but there is still a chilly reminder that makes its presence known from time to time. There is a mixture of sights, smells, and sounds now pouring throughout the walls. They seem to seep down from the ceiling, across the icy floor, under the doors, and from locker to locker. One slowly begins to drift in a boat called dreams, tossing about on the whirlwind of surrounding events. Suddenly, just as the boat is about to touch shore on a sunny island paradise, a sharp tone brings one back to the harsh reality of that one chilly morning.