My bedroom door swung open with a loud ‘bang!’ as my mom clomped into my messy room. An array of clothes formed a semicircle around my high, wooden posted bed and she sighed with disgust. "Time to rise and shine!" she exclaimed with as much gusto as one could muster at six in the morning. I swiftly rolled over to the far side of the bed and drew my covers up to my head. "Go away!" I shouted into my pillow, aversion slipping off my moist tongue. Immediately I knew I would receive the cold shoulder for the next hour, but I didn’t care. I hated those five words more than anything else in the world.
* * *
6:15 a.m.
"Hannah Lindsey!" My mom’s voice rumbled down the blank hallway. "I’m up!" I shouted back as I rolled over and shoved my face into my pillow. ‘Just five more minutes, please!’ my mind cried down the hallway. My face sank as the pillow molded to my profile and I rebounded into a carefree sleep.
I was shaken back into reality by a loud crash in the kitchen followed by very profane language. My eyes widened as I sat straight up in bed. How long had I slept in? Paranoia shot through my veins reaching every extremity. I glanced to my right at the digital clock that streamed blue light into my lifeless room. ‘Holy s***!’ my mind screamed as it processed the 6-2-5 written on the digital screen. I sprang out of bed, throwing the bundle of blankets that had comforted me throughout the still night. Goose bumps rose on my skin as soon as my bare legs made contact with the crisp morning air. I struggled to make my way to the bathroom, resisting the damp and heavy air that encompassed me. ‘This blows,’ I whispered shaking my stiff head, as I entered the bathroom.
* * *
6:30 a.m.
The hot watered poured over my soft skin as I trembled under the shower faucet. Not a muscle moved in my body as I absorbed the heat being transferred from small droplets to my chilly interior. I began to move slowly towards the shampoo teetering high on a shelf, being careful to stay within the limits of the hot water flow. My eyes snapped shut as I simultaneously yawned, trying to supply just enough oxygen to my bloodstream as was necessary. I lathered my head up then slowly stepped under the steaming water. Discarded shampoo slithered down my skin and my eyes chased it as it slipped off my toes and spiraled down the drain. I stood in a trance watching the water swirl below me, unaware of my surroundings. A sharp rap on the door and my mother’s obnoxious voice dragged me back to my senses. Quickly, I pulled the shower curtain aside and glanced at the central clock hanging on the wall. ‘6:43' it shoved the numbers in my face. I cut off the water and leapt out of the shower. The contrasting air stung my bare body and I hastily reached for my towel.
* * *
6:50 a.m.
Three pairs of jeans lay somewhere in the tangle of shirts, shorts, bras and pants, but today I couldn’t find a single one. My heartbeat was racing the clock and I was sure my pounding chest was going to win. I pushed over a pile of sweaters and one pair of jeans was revealed. I threw them on - the butt lay loose on my back end, and cursing I shoved them off. Three pairs later and we had a winner.
"Mom! I can’t find my soccer socks," I bellowed down the stairs as my hands ran frantically through clean laundry baskets. Out flew size-large shirts, girls underwear, jeans that would only fit a grown man, and out-of-style sweaters. "Look through the white basket or there’s a wash downstairs," she called back up to me. Uncouthly, I hobbled down the stairs, crashing into backpacks and any clutter that lay in my path.
* * *
7:08 a.m.
Our consciences were beginning to grow impatient; we had to leave in three minutes. We ran around the kitchen as the gas stove sizzled and cabinets slammed shut. The teapot began its steady screeching increase as it struggled to leak out of the window crevasses and shatter the panes. Meanwhile, the overbearing rotation of the hairdryer bounced off the hallway walls as it fought for recognition. I sat at the kitchen table and shoved a heaping spoonful of Honeynut Cheerios down my throat. My dad stood on guard at the stove battling against a boiling pot of pasta for lunches, steaming tea mugs, and the piercing beep of the microwave across the room.
I drew my head out of my cereal bowl just long enough to make out two unmistakable words written across the pasta box - GLUTEN FREE. "Um Dad...you’re not making gluten-free pasta, right?" He looked up at me; his two eyes were repelled like two similar sides of a magnet. He looked directly at the box which screamed out at him "Gluten Free." "S***!" he exclaimed into the chaotic air.
* * *
7:15 a.m.
The second batch of pasta sat in the bubbling water on the stove. Our eyes were fixed on the pot as it steamed over the sides. We sat posed like puppets ready for the show to begin, for the pasta assembly line to jolt into action.
* * *
7:19 a.m.
We zoomed down the curving driveway without our seatbelts on. My small eyes peered over my numerous bags and binders thrown on my lap in a disarray. I took a deep breath, in an attempt to absorb the soft glow of the sun as it rose out of the distant mountains. Its rays were ricocheted into the neighboring clouds as they reached out towards the land. The landscape blurred into a sea of vibrant red, orange, and yellow as we sped down the hills towards town. The road stretched in front of us carrying us to our next destinations. More battles would have to be won throughout the long day that lay ahead in my path, but for now we had narrowly conquered the morning madness.