I began waking up about ten years ago.

At least that’s how I remember it.  Everything before that seems shrouded in clouds of unconsciousness.

I don’t remember a single waking moment.  Just bits and glimpses of remembered thought.  Walking down a city sidewalk.  Sitting with my sister, Mary Ann, near a wide stream of water.  Gazing at the stars on a clear summer night.  And watching shadows cast by a candle jump about on the walls of the living room.

With time, the moments of awareness and reason grew closer together and more structured.  I began to understand who I was and where I lived.  I began to know my name and to remember the day’s events.

It was as scary, waking up, as it was exhilarating.  I was afraid that I would simply drift off again into the deep fog of mind sleep.  But with every day, my grip on reality and understanding grew a little stronger.

I remember watching the ground go by as I walked down to the corner store.  The concrete sidewalk was always dirty and stained.  Small clumps of grass were trying to grow in some of the cracks.  Warm afternoon sunlight cast a yellow glow on everything that was not in shadow.  When I looked up, I saw the glaring Chinese letters painted on the windows of the small market.  Opening the door, I could smell the fish on ice at the back of the store, and even the produce piled in round baskets near the front.

Later that same day, about the time of the evening news, I remember sitting at a small kitchen table and drinking hot chocolate.  The man on the TV was talking about the upcoming presidential election, and about trouble in Korea.  We had no snow on the ground but the outside temperature was cold.

I was almost wide awake that day, and my mother and sisters noticed.  They smiled a lot and talked to me in kind and encouraging tones.  I could tell that they wanted to see me overcome the long sleep that had held me since early childhood.  I drank my cocoa and then asked for more, hoping to take full advantage of the situation.  But with six children in the family, seconds on hot chocolate were more rare than Indian head pennies.

Soon after that, as I recall, we went to a large lake to spend the day on the beach.  Dad set up a grill and we had hotdogs and marshmallows for dinner.  Everyone played in the water all day.  Everyone except me.  I played in the sand, as always.  I piled up sand and dug holes into the beach.  I watched the restless waves with a healthy measure of fear.  I knew somehow that the water could grab hold of me if I went too close.  I played in the sun and listened to the playful screams and laughter all around.  It was a good day.

I found a turtle in the back yard.  It had come under the fence, I guess, from the ponds across the meadow.  I picked it up and carried it around for most of the next two or three days.  But before the week was up, it escaped the little house I made for it and vanished back into the wildness beyond our house and lawns.

One night I saw what I thought was a falling star.  But it just seemed to sit there.  When I said something about it to Dad he told me it was a comet.  He talked for a few minutes about how comets travel through the sky, and how their tails were caused by wind from the sun.  And then he looked at me and turned away to finish reading the newspaper.  I went back outside and stared at the comet.  I drew pictures of it to show my teacher the next day.

We had two large Siamese cats, Nanny and George, in those days.  They were strange and not very friendly most of the time.  But when I would become aware of where I was, Nanny, the mother cat would be sitting or sleeping next to me.  She always seemed near me when I woke up enough to notice.

I didn’t completely wake up until three summers ago.  My sisters had all grown up and moved away.  Some of them were married and others were going to college.  Dad had lost his first business and had started another one.  Mom was still the same.  She worked more in the gardens around the house.

I was sitting in the grass by the big trees out front when I woke up.  Nanny was sitting right next to me, washing her face with her front paw.  Mom was busy in the big garden that ran along the east side of the yard.  I must have made some kind of sound because Mom turned and looked at me just as I came awake.  She smiled and then went back to work, as though paying too much attention might somehow jinx me back into mind sleep.

But I never went back into that kind of sleep again.  At least not yet.  Even when I sleep and dream at night I am awake in a way that I never was much before.  Everyone talks about it and says that my waking up is a true miracle.

I’m learning how to read and I already learned how to ride a bike.  I have a different teacher now than when I was a boy.  She says that I am learning very fast for my age.  I like to learn.  I like knowing things and doing things on my own. I might even learn how to drive a car some day.  Dad says we will have to wait and see.

I finally got a puppy.  We never had one before.  Just the cats.  George either died or got lost a couple of years back.  Nanny is so old now that she does not walk around much any more.  But every night she sleeps on my pillow next to me.  And now she also has Bozo, my new puppy, to help keep her warm at night.

I saw a falling star last night.  It was a real falling star this time, and not a comet.  It went really fast across the sky and was almost green before it disappeared.  I made a wish, like the little song says.  I wished that I will stay awake forever.  I want to keep learning new things every day.

©2006  Jim Sutton