The first light of dawn crept into the room, soft and golden, like a gentle hand brushing against the curtains. The night's shadows retreated slowly, giving way to colors that looked as though the sky had dipped its brush in fire and honey. Outside the window, a chorus of birds announced the beginning of another day, their chirping weaving a melody too perfect to have been rehearsed.
David stirred beneath the covers. For a brief moment, he lingered in that dreamy in-between, where the warmth of sleep wrestled with the promise of morning. His body begged for just a little more rest, but his mind was alive with a curious excitement. Something about today felt different—though he could not yet name what it was.
He finally sat up, stretching his arms wide. The sunlight spilled across his face, warm and reassuring. He rose and pushed open the window, inhaling deeply. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp soil and blossoming hibiscus from the neighbor's garden. It was the kind of morning that made the chest expand with gratitude.
"Good morning, world," he whispered, smiling at no one in particular.
The house was quiet. From the small kitchen drifted the faint aroma of coffee grounds—an automatic timer had worked its magic. David padded across the wooden floor, each creak of the boards familiar and comforting, like old friends greeting him at the start of the day.
He poured himself a cup, savoring the first sip. The bitterness balanced with just enough sweetness to wake his senses. He leaned against the counter, cup in hand, gazing through the window at the streets outside. The town was stirring to life. Vendors rolled their carts into place. A newspaper boy zipped down the street on his bicycle. Across the road, Mrs. Aluko watered her plants, humming a tune he didn't recognize but found soothing nonetheless.
David let the moment stretch. He wasn't in a hurry—no frantic alarm, no traffic to beat, no pressing appointment clawing at his mind. Just time. And time, he thought, was the greatest luxury of all.
After finishing his coffee, he prepared breakfast. Nothing extravagant—two slices of toasted bread, eggs fried sunny-side-up, and a handful of mango slices on the side. He sat by the window with his plate, enjoying how the sunlight danced across the tablecloth. Each bite seemed richer, each flavor more vivid than it might have been on any other day. He wasn't sure if the food truly tasted better, or if it was simply his heart that was wide open, ready to savor everything.
Halfway through the meal, he noticed his old journal lying on the side of the table. The leather cover was worn, its pages filled with scribbles of thoughts, sketches, and plans. He picked it up and flipped through. Past entries spoke of days less kind—times of weariness, disappointment, and doubt. Yet here he was, alive, breathing, beginning anew.
He took his pen and wrote:
"This morning feels like a gift. Not because something spectacular happened, but because it didn't have to. The sunrise itself is enough. I will carry this feeling with me, no matter what today holds."
As he finished writing, a faint buzz came from his phone. Curious, he reached for it. A message flashed across the screen:
"Hey David, it's been a while. Just thinking of you this morning. Hope your day is kind to you."
It was from Amaka, a friend from university days, someone he hadn't spoken to in nearly a year. The message was short, casual even, but it landed in his heart like a warm embrace. He found himself grinning at the phone, marveling at the way the universe had chosen today—of all days—for reconnection.
He typed back quickly: "Wow, Amaka! It's so good to hear from you. My day just got brighter. Let's catch up soon?"
A reply came almost instantly, with a smiley face and a promise to call later in the week. David placed the phone back on the table, feeling lighter than before. The world was brimming with small surprises, he thought, and perhaps that was what made it so wonderful.
After breakfast, he stepped outside. The sun was now fully awake, its golden rays stretching across rooftops and treetops alike. The streets hummed with activity. A child laughed as his father tried to chase him around their compound. The laughter was contagious; David chuckled quietly to himself. He noticed the details he often missed—the way the leaves glistened with morning dew, the way the breeze carried scents of fresh bread from the bakery down the street.
Standing there, he realized something: greatness wasn't always found in extraordinary moments. Sometimes, it lived in the ordinary ones—the rising sun, the taste of warm coffee, a message from a friend, the sound of laughter in the distance.
He breathed in deeply, letting the realization settle in his bones.
Yes, it was only morning. But already, David knew.
This was going to be a great day.