Updated: 28 July 2008

Transitions

Jaye woke up, as he usually did, quite suddenly.  One minute he was sound asleep, or in the latter part of a busy dream, then the next he was aware of where he was, what day it was, which tasks he was expecting to be busy with, and which particular morning routine he would adopt that day.  In spite of this alertness of mind, he still knew that he was getting old, and did not try to move his body at the speed of his mind.  He slowly rolled over towards the edge of his double bed, rarely shared with anyone else these days, put one foot down onto the soft sheepskin rug, then another, and very gradually, with a quiet grunt, straightened himself onto two legs.  He switched the radio to a programme of soothing classical music to ease his passage into the active world, then opened the curtains, peering out into the still dark morning, just discerning the shadowy outlines of his garden shed, his small pond, and the edge of the far field still fuzzy against the growing dawn of the sky.

He stumbled stiffly across the bedroom, without switching on any light, wanting to avoid the jolt that it caused to his eyes.  Bending down with another grunt, he put on his easy sandals, then a dressing-gown, opened the bedroom door and proceeded downstairs, holding firmly to both banister rails.  He began to breathe more deeply as he descended, and became aware of which parts of his body were stiffer than usual from the exertion of the previous day’s exercise.  He liked his regular morning routine, being thankful most of the time that there was no-one else to disrupt it.  He entered the kitchen, unlocked the outside door, raised the blinds so that he could check, more by sound than by sight, that his garden fountain was still working, then carefully placed a tea-pot and cup onto a small tray, together with a herbal tea-bag.  He filled a glass with freshly filtered water and drank it slowly, imagining that it was a cool mountain stream washing out the impurities of his body.  Once the rest of the house was opened, he walked back upstairs to read quietly while his first tea brewed.

His second cup always came as a reward, after he was shaved, washed and dressed.  These parts of his morning bored him exceedingly and he tried to get through them with his mind on other things.  When he shaved he imagined his face was a lawn being smoothed down by a hover mower, thus transporting his mind to a balmy spring day.  In the shower he would close his eyes to imagine a water-fall on some tropical island, and would girate to the music so as to loosen up his back and legs.

This was a definite second stage to the day, since the radio was now off and a CD was playing choral music.  He had long ago discovered that the way to a happy morning was to avoid the early news, since it was always full of problems and disasters which were nothing to do with him.  It had also led him to pleasing discoveries of music which he had rarely listened to with any attention.  There was one part of his routine which he did give his mind to, and that was a careful stretching after his shower.  He would reach up as high as he could, feeling a surge of energy as he did so, then would bend gently down while keeping his legs straight, letting his body weight take his fingers and sometimes his whole hand right to the floor, as he relaxed his shoulders to allow the muscles to lengthen and soften.  If the music was suitable he would dance in front of his full-length mirror, trying only to bring more life and energy to his body.  Then he would dress with some enthusiasm as he felt a glow of well-being inside him.

Finally, with his second cup of strong hot Indian tea inside him, fully dressed, hair combed, and feeling much taller than when he had first woken, he walked outside  to gulp in the fresh air.

“Morning, Jaye”, said his neighbour, who was standing outside his own back door, still in his dressing-gown for his first cigarette of the day, “you look amazing for your age.  I don’t know how you do it.”

Jaye just smiled.